


A Lady's Delights

by SevenOceansOfInk



Category: Original Work
Genre: Alternate History, Alternate Universe - Victorian, Cannibalism, Canon Lesbian Relationship, Class Issues, F/F, Female Character In Command, Female Character of Color, Female Protagonist, Femdom, Femslash, Lesbian Character, Magic, Masturbation, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, Shrinking, Size Difference, Size Kink, Unrequited Lust, Vore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-03
Updated: 2014-03-28
Packaged: 2018-01-11 00:29:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 104,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1166432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SevenOceansOfInk/pseuds/SevenOceansOfInk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On the outskirts of the capital of Angliea, the young, proud aristocrat, Cassandra Selby, is the sole living heir of her family’s estate. Cassandra’s secured her home and her wealth from being seized by the powerful banker, Violette Wilemere, through a forbidden dessert: shrunken human beings! </p><p>Cassandra’s lust for her servant Estelle, though, threatens to unravel her into madness, and Violette would love nothing more than to leave Cassandra penniless and control her shrunken delights for herself. Will Cassandra find love and fortune, or will the very thing that keeps her from debtor’s prison be her undoing?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story contains scenes of non-graphic magical cannibalism. Reader discretion is advised.

Cassandra touched the end of one finger to the tip of her tongue, moistening it ever so slightly, and turned the page of her novel. She sighed as the young man it described-- a handsome suitor in the prime of his life, with dark hair and a tan complexion-- leaned the lady of his interests against a tree. Their bodies pressed together in a way that, even though the author described them as mostly dressed, still brought a blush of pink to her cheeks. It was simply scandalous, she thought to herself with a shiver.

"Lady Cassandra?"

The young lady looked up and past the brim of her hat, bent down to shade the fair skin of her face from the warmth of the afternoon sun. Her maid had approached from elsewhere in the walled gardens, smiling as she always did. Her face, with skin a warm brown in color, was half covered by long, black hair, a white scarf tied under her chin to hold its length away from her eyes. Her young figure was wrapped neatly in the plain, black dress of a servant, her white apron crisply ironed and tied in a bow at the base of her spine.

She was a lady from the Continent, though Cassandra was never quite clear from which nation she originally immigrated from. It left an air of mystery between the two of them, she supposed. It caused her to look forward to the moments throughout the day when their paths would cross each other's.

Cassandra smiled and acknowledged the servant girl's presence, nodding as the other woman balanced a silver tray on one hand. "Lord," she said, glancing up to look for the sun in the sky, and found it descending towards the roof of her estate. "Is it tea already? I swear, Estelle, I should have a clock placed in every room, not to mention this garden."

Estelle nodded, the gesture displacing not a single hair from underneath her scarf. "Your tea and your delights, my Lady."

Cassandra perked up at that.

Estelle handed her the small, covered dish, waiting until Cassandra held it in her lap before starting to pour her tea. Cassandra moistened her lip, excitement building beneath her breast as she lifted the lid to expose her delights.

There, laid out on the china, was a line of three miniature human figures, their limbs tied and bound together, their torsos covered in a glaze and powdered spice to cover their nakedness. Each lay motionless on the small plate, staring up at her, waiting.

Her delights, she thought, her mouth starting to water in anticipation. An illicit little treat she bred with her servant's help, and the sole source of her income. They were alive, marvelously alive; she could see their tiny chests rising and falling as she hovered over them. All three were male, as was her preference. She enjoyed the female ones from time to time, but there was just something about the male variety she found particularly delicious.

Her long, slender fingers floated above their bodies, pausing a moment over each as she decided which she wished to enjoy first. Estelle had seasoned each one differently, a small sampling of the flavors she was preparing to sell this season. The mint one seemed as though it would go best with the scent of the tea Estelle was pouring, she decided, sliding two fingers around the tiny man as she picked him up.

"They're the most recent vintage to come of age," Estelle said, matter-of-factly.

She examined the boy, turning him from side to side. One finger brushed along the creature's spine; a quiet giggle fluttered past her lips as she watched him shiver beneath his mint coating. She breathed deep, drawing the scent of mint inside of her. "They look healthier every year."

Her servant nodded. "The more I study the book, my Lady, the better I learn to care for them."

The book, she mused. It was magic, after all, that bound the delights to their shrunken form. Her house and her family held many secrets, secrets that were buried deep underground in an ancient room the house was built on top of. The hidden room was a treasure trove of forgotten, forbidden knowledge; things she once believed were confined to lurid fantasies printed in cheap novels.

The letter she discovered in her parents' belongings, though, made it clear that no, these things were real. It took weeks of searching for her and Estelle to find the entrance; when they did, though, a new world of possibilities opened with it. The pages of the ancient tome they discovered contained the awful knowledge of how to shrink a human being down to size fit for one to consume. Desperate to retain possession of her family's estate, it was her last, best chance to sell something truly spectacular, something that would titilate her fellow aristocrats enough to make them hand over their money by the shovel-full.

The first stock were orphans, forgotten children taken from the streets and drugged with the compounds described in the book. The first, a boy, she ate bare-- no dressing, no glaze, simply the bare taste of his skin inside her mouth. That sensuous flavor of something terrible on her tongue, the feel of it writhing as it slid down her throat, and the realization that her body held something alive captive within it, sent power surging through her blood. Hundreds, she realized, would pay for this pleasure, and she would charge them a premium for that luxury.

None noticed, or cared, for the disappearances; orphans and urchins disappeared all of the time, the victims of this or that horrid crime. It was simply an artifact of society in Angliea, the forgotten byproduct of the social tiers that kept money flowing properly and greased the gears of burgeoning industry. That a few disappeared every month, every year was of no consequence so long as the factories remained sufficiently staffed. Cassandra herself couldn't care less. She was a self-made woman and she was, at least, giving these children more purpose than they otherwise would ever have possessed in the world.

She slipped the first slowly between her lips, pushing it inside, tasting the mint as the boy slid onto her tongue. It was refreshing, cool as the breeze through her red hair. Her tongue moved the tiny, bound body forward and back along its length, tasting the natural flavor of his skin as the mint glaze and cream drizzle melted away in the humid heat of her mouth. If sunshine possessed a flavor, she thought to herself, it was surely captured in this tiny creature's skin. Dry, warm, with the slightest hint of salt.

The corner of her mouth turned up as she swallowed, sending the young man into her throat to descend into the depths of her body. She took the napkin Estelle offered her, blotting specks of mint flavor from her lips before accepting the warm cup of tea the woman handed her. She chased her tiny prisoner with the liquid, the bittersweet taste filling her body, warmth chasing the cool mint down into her core.

"Are they to your liking?"

She looked up and nodded to Estelle as she set her cup down to pick up another delight, the cinnamon dusted one this time. "Oh, yes," she said. "You always prepare them perfectly. The mint complimented his taste marvelously... more of your studies, I take it, Estelle?"

The dark-haired woman shook her head. "Simply applying my kitchen work to this, my Lady."

"Marvelous." She placed the next treat into her mouth, nearly coughing as the bite on cinnamon hit her palette. Her tongue shoved the tiny body against the roof of her mouth, sandwiching him between that rigid surface and the thicker cushion beneath him. She could feel him struggling, surely panicking at the violent force she'd exerted on him.

Carefully, she lowered her tongue, curling the muscle around him as she allowed her mouth to water up. When she felt him start to slide, she tipped her head back and swallowed, coughing again as soon as he fell over the entrance into her airway and safely downward towards her stomach.

Estelle moved quickly, pouring a small glass of ice water for her employer. Cassandra's hand lunged out for it, nearly knocking the crystal glass from the girl's tray before she wrapped her hand around it. She clung to the cool glass, letting water pour over her tongue and down her throat, soothing the over-stimulated taste buds. "Sorry," she said, blushing at how roughly she'd grabbed for the water.

"It's nothing, my Lady. Are you alright?"

She nodded, allowing her breath a moment to slow to normal before having more tea. There was one more of the delights left in the dish, white chocolate and brown sugar this time. She looked up at Estelle, smiling at the girl. "Have you tasted the new vintage yet, dear?"

Her servant blinked, balancing her tray on one hand as she held the other to her breast. "I... why no, my Lady. That wouldn't be proper. The stock are your property, after all. I have no right to taste them without your knowledge."

Cassandra waved a hand at her, shaking her head. "Oh, don't start with that nonsense. They're your work as much as mine, and it's your efforts that keep this stock managed."

"My Lady," Estelle blushed; it was rather cute, Cassandra thought to herself.

She picked the last of her delights up, holding it carefully between two fingers as she raised her hand toward Estelle. "Here, you have the last one. A show of thanks, for your service to me."

The rose color on Estelle's cheeks burned brighter. The sight stirred something in Cassandra, lighting a fire within a heart as easily as her novel did. The servant girl stammered for a moment, shaking her head. "I really couldn't, my Lady."

"Oh, of course you could."

She reached out with her other hand, taking Estelle's, leading her to lean over her while remaining careful not to knock the platter of dishes from her servant's other hand. She hadn't noticed just how nicely the girl's dress was tailored to her figure, how neatly it conformed to the shape of her body, the flat plane of her belly and the broad span of her hips. She had never seen the woman undressed; it would be unseemly, of course, to look upon her servant in such a state. It was certainly her right, being of a higher station than her servant, but the thought of an aristocrat expressing her longing for the touch of one of her servants was entirely unbecoming of her position.

Still, though, her mind raced at suggestions of the girl's skin through her stockings as she walked, at glimpses of her neck and collarbone.

She brought the chocolate-flavored delight to Estelle's lips, slowly easing him into her mouth. The girl's mouth opened to accept the snack, blush still covering her face beneath her closed eyes. Estelle's tongue caught hold of the treat, dragging him inside, pulling him out of Cassandra's fingers, bit by bit.

Cassandra's fingers brushed against the girl's lips; for the briefest moment, she felt the slightest pang of envy for the boy resting against her tongue. He was gaining a more intimate knowledge of this woman than she ever could, would know her in ways impossible to her. Her fingertips hesitated to pull away from those lips, their soft, cushioning flesh keeping her digits close like a magnet.

She was not one of those ladies, she told herself as she watched Estelle suckling on the boy within her mouth, cheeks shifting each time as the tongue hidden inside squeezed at the body it held. Men were handsome, men were attractive, and the thought of one filling her made her think sensual, improper things when she fell asleep at night. That heat that could split her open and surge deep into her body, the feeling of capturing part of her lover within herself forever, was spine tingling. What woman, she scolded herself, could ever provide her with such a feeling?

And yet, and yet, there was a mystery and a beauty to this girl, to this particular girl, that she wanted to dive down into. She wanted to penetrate her interior, to flood and fill and overwhelm her body just as she longed for someone to do to her. The delight she suckled on in her mouth would do so, she realized, if only for a short time while her body broke him down into the raw material it would use to sustain every particle of her being. That, even she could not provide.

Her fingers traced back along Estelle's face from her lips, down until it met the line of her jaw and back to her throat. She felt the twitch of the girl's tongue pushing her snack backward, the motion of her throat muscles relaxing to open the passage to admit him down to her stomach. Then, he was in her throat, fingers tracing the lump descending along Estelle's neck as she swallowed until they met the collar of her dress. The boy slipped out of sight, sealed forever within Estelle's body.

Estelle breathed, licking her lips before covering her mouth, embarrassed.

"Definitely a good vintage?" Cassandra asked, blushing herself as she pulled her arm back. It took every effort not to touch her fingertips to her servant's mouth, again.

"D... definitely, my Lady."

"Very good. Thank you." She cradled her tea cup in her hands, its contents already lukewarm, not nearly as warm as Estelle's skin. "I will be in when I am finished with my novel. I would like to attend to my correspondence before I sit down for dinner tonight. If I've not left the garden an hour from now, please come and remind me?"

Her servant girl nodded before taking the now-empty dish and hurrying away, the click of her shoes on the stone path through the garden receding faster than they had approached earlier. Cassandra exhaled, resting a hand on her stomach, feeling it start to squeeze and work at the tea and food now filling its interior. She smiled and, once Estelle was comfortably out of sight, wafted her fingertips under her nose. The girl's lips smelt strongly of vanilla. A shiver ran through her as she imagined licking that taste from them.

She turned back to where she'd left off with her novel, but her thoughts were no longer on the couple described in its pages-- they wandered, instead, to Estelle. Images of the servant girl laying under her, her clothing tossed aside onto the floor, the girl's body growing steadily bigger as she grew smaller and landed between breasts normally held tightly under her simple dress. Fingers that served her food, that handled her laundry and dusted her furniture plucked her from her chest and dangled her over her mouth. That sweet, pink-rimmed portal opened wide beneath her, beckoned her, sealed behind her as Estelle trapped her inside and swallowed.

Cassandra's hands lay over her lap, her desire surging through her body. She imagined the view the delight she fed her had as he slipped past the back of her tongue and into her throat, soft, silken walls wrapping tightly around him. She raised one hand to her heart, imagining the echo of the organ within Estelle's chest in her ears. The warm embrace of her belly, deadly as it was, was so inviting that she could not push its call from her thoughts; deep in some hidden recess of her passions, she longed to dwell inside that beautiful woman's body.

She cursed under her breath and set the book aside again. That settled matters, she told herself. She would invite the girl to her study for tea after dinner. Perhaps, she thought, picturing the girl's puckered lips from behind closed eyes, she would share a delight or two with her, as well.

Scandalous, she thought. Deliciously so.

~ 

Eventually, after thoroughly giving up on her novel, Cassandra went inside. There was work waiting for her in her office atop the grand stairway in the foyer. As much as she enjoyed the pleasure of literature and her daydreams about her servant girl to balancing figures and responding to requests, it was the work conducted there that ensured she could continue to live a life of relative leisure.

The office was once her bedroom: a small space, one that evolved slowly over time from a nursery into a child's room, and from there to the bedroom of an adolescent girl. The walls were still covered in the warm pastel paper her father himself put into place, though faded with age and sunlight, the same paper they'd had since she was a little girl.

The furniture, though, was long gone and replaced with more adult fixtures. The bed below the window, replaced with a writing desk; the chest of stuffed toys and wooden playthings set aside in favor of bookshelves filled mainly with ledgers and records of transactions conducted-- the sale of tins filled with her delights. Volume after volume, bound in dark leather with dates embossed with gold leaf on the spine of each, declared the span of more than a decade of transactions conducted with the whole of the Angliean aristocracy. Cassandra slipped one from its place, one of the newer volumes, and thumbed through its pages. The names of lady after lady-- it was always the ladies, she thought to herself, their husbands and lovers too preoccupied elsewhere-- followed one another down page after page, often repeating themselves.

"Lady Cassandra?"

She spun about, breath catching in her throat, only easing its way out of her mouth when she saw that it was just Estelle at the door. "I must have been in a daze," she said, setting the ledger back into its place.

"Perhaps you've had too much sun?"

Cassandra laughed and walked deeper into the room, turning the chair to face Estelle before seating herself. "Oh, don't tell me you really believe that."

Estelle smiled. Cassandra noticed the envelopes in her hands, and looked back up at her servant's face. "More mail? Business, I might imagine. No one ever sends me casual correspondence..."

"I suppose it is, my Lady." Estelle approached, and began handing the envelopes to Cassandra. The first bore a wax seal with an intricate design, Cassandra's lashes fluttering as she blinked at it.

"A royal seal?" Cassandra said as she sliced the slender blade of a letter opener under the wax circle and withdrew the folded paper within the envelope. The penmanship was exquisite. Cassandra's smile grew as she scanned down the page to the signature at its end. "Her Royal Highness, Anne Lauderlie. My! The daughter of Her Majesty..."

Estelle seemed hardly moved by Cassandra's excitement. "She wrote to you?"

“Indeed she has, expressing an interest in my delights." Cassandra nearly shook with excitement, her eyes flying up and down the page, reading the princess' words again and again. "It turns out a friend of hers stayed for a weekend and brought a tin with her for the two to share. She found the taste quite exquisite and-- dare she say it!-- curiously erotic. The pulse of warmth, living, moving warmth, sinking into her body makes her shiver, she says, the thought that the sweet on her tongue was a living being, that she was letting some tiny creature into such a hidden place... oh!"

Estelle offered the slightest of smiles as she set the remainder of Cassandra's mail on her desk. "You seem as excited as Her Highness, to be entirely honest."

"How can I not be! Oh, I must respond to her quickly, quickly, perhaps even mail a bit of a sampler to her discretely." Cassandra set the royal letter aside and turned to the other envelopes, opening each in turn. Several more requests spilled out before her, promising swift payments for sizable deliveries of the tiny, candy- and chocolate-dipped beings. Each letter, extolling the writer's intense pleasure experienced when consuming her product, broadened her smile.

It was Estelle who noticed the last remaining, unopened letter. "From Lady Wilemere."

The smile faded from Cassandra's face as she snapped the letter up from the desk, striking the opener through it's wax seal. "Demanding money from me, no doubt."

"She may be placing an order," Estelle suggested. "Lady Wilemere is fond of the delights, herself."

"She's also fond of badgering me about my property." She sighed in relief as she opened the letter. It was, as her servant suggested, no more than a letter seeking to order delights. Cassandra folded the letter back onto itself, placing it into one of the open slots above the desk's worktop. "Violette waves the title of this house over my head like a schoolboy dangles his peer's hat out of reach."

"Yet, she spends freely from her purse to pay the extraordinary prices for your delights."

"She does, yes." Cassandra pushed thoughts of Violette from her mind, bringing the pleading letter from the Princess back in front of her. She licked her lips as she dipped a pen into its inkwell, starting her response to Her Highness' request. "It is an uncomfortable stalemate, and I'd much rather have it ended once and for all."

"In your favor, naturally," said Estelle, standing patiently with her hands laid against the apron draped over her skirt.

"Naturally," said Cassandra, without lifting her eyes from her writing. There was little to be done about Violette, though. She owned more than just the Selby estate; Violette's property encompassed a considerable portion of Angliea's property beside what belonged to the Crown. Her wealth dwarfed all but the Queen's, and her hands were in the wallets and bank accounts of every branch of the overgrown tree that was the aristocracy. Confronting such a vast financial empire, one that she depended upon, would be suicidal. She would be penniless and broken within days, the last of the Selby line locked away within a debtors' prison, a further dishonor to her ancestry as far as her peers were concerned.

Cassandra set her pen down and looked over her shoulder at Estelle, the servant still standing by her side. "Was there anything else?"

"Only that dinner will be ready soon, my Lady."

"Very well," she said, plunging herself back into the letter she was writing. Thoughts of Violette faded as she hoped. Instead of being replaced by Her Highness' words, though, she found them occupied by the sights of Estelle's lips, wrapped around the delight she'd fed her earlier that afternoon. Something shivered through the depths of her body, her heart trembling at the sight of her servant's features in such sharp focus in her mind's eye. Unable to peel her mind away from that image, she set her pen down and turned to Estelle, shifting her chair across the floor to face her servant.

"Is something the matter?" Estelle asked, a bit startled by her mistress' sudden movement.

"No, nothing's the matter..." Cassandra said, laying her hands atop one another in her lap, turning her eyes up to look into Estelle's. Irises of warm browns, oranges, and yellows encircled the darker apertures that were her windows out on the world. "I would like to ask... to ask if you would join me at dinner, tonight."

Estelle's lips parted, the young woman stepping back at such a bold request. "My Lady," she said, her voice hushed despite the fact that they were alone together in the house, "that would hardly be proper!"

Cassandra shook her head, though. "That hardly matters," she said, her own voice hushed as well. "This is a house of many improper things. What is one more, on top of the rest?"

The other woman shook her head. "Nonetheless, it is hardly something to be so casual about. Your family's good name should not be pinned to such things."

"This family's name has already been thoroughly dragged through the mud." Cassandra sighed and pushed her chair back, rising up out of it. "You've surely heard how people talk about my mother and father. Lurid tales of murder, or accusations that they abandoned everything, abandoned their every responsibility to start another life in another land."

Estelle closed her eyes, ever-so-subtly shaking her head. "Such tales are owed more the to sensational imaginations of the idle rich, than to any actual substance or facts, my Lady."

Cassandra cocked an eyebrow at her servant. "That's rather forward of you, Estelle. I don't think I've heard you so outspoken before."

The other woman raised a hand to her mouth, casting her gaze downward. "My apologies, my Lady. I've not meant to speak out of turn, but I cannot stand such disrespect to you and your family."

A smile returned to Cassandra's face as she gestured towards the door, nodding for Estelle to come with her towards the stairs. "It's no matter, Estelle; people will think what they will of my parents. But the gesture is appreciated. I'd rather not talk further of such depressing things. I'd prefer to share a warm meal with you, my dear Estelle."

The young woman followed after her, the slightest upward curl to her lips hinting at a thankfulness Cassandra could only wonder about. "As you wish, then, my Lady."

~ 

The dining room was an intimate space; Cassandra had long since shuttered the grander formal dining room. The larger space had not been used since the disappearance of her parents, and now sat unused. Estelle occasionally dusted the space to keep it from falling entirely into disrepair, but otherwise, the doors remained locked.

The room she used instead held a much smaller table, walls painted in a soft, pastel blue with cream wainscoting around their base. A fireplace stood at one of the longer walls, much like many of the other rooms in the manor, with a portrait hanging over the wall of the Selby family. Master Selby and his wife stood smiling in their finest clothes, a youthful Cassandra seated in front of them.

She'd thought several times of removing the painting. Each time, though, she decided against it. Her parents had disappeared from so many other corners of her life; this would be one at least space where they would stay, forever.

Estelle was already at work, setting food at the table. There were two places set. Cassandra smiled, pleased, at the busy servant. "I was worried, for a moment, that you would decided against joining me after all."

"That would hardly be polite," her servant said as she carried on her work. "I was extended an invitation, after all."

"You were, yes," she said, and took her seat as Estelle finished preparations. The meal looked delicious, a hot roast cooked with potatoes and carrots, Cassandra's mouth watering as Estelle sliced into the meat to serve her. The young woman hesitated for a moment after finishing, then cut a serving for herself on the dish across the table from the Lady of the House. "It can be lonely, sometimes, eating all by one's self."

Estelle nodded as she set the carving knife down, the blade hardly making a sound as it was set carefully onto the platter the roast was set on. Cassandra waited for the other woman to seat herself before sampling a bite of the meat, smiling as her tongue registered its flavor. "Your talent in the kitchen never ceases to please me, my dear Estelle," she said after swallowing the morsel of food.

"Cooking is an essential art in life, my Lady," Estelle said, carefully and precisely cutting her meal apart with fork and knife. The roast sliced neatly under the blade she eased through it, cleaving cleanly, not tearing, as she divided her meal into small bites. "Food is one of the key elements to survival. If we cannot draw pleasure from the things that sustain us, then all other pleasures are a waste of our time."

"And yet, we make things to be consumed, that benefit the body in no way..." Cassandra sighed, resting her fingers against her lips while holding her fork between them. "I traffic in the extraction of life from one being to another."

Estelle frowned at her, the expression surprising the lady of the house. "Such is the nature of food, my Lady. It is life that is taken and used for the sustenance of another."

"Yes, yes, I know." Cassandra set her fork down, pressing her forehead against the fingertips of her other hand. "The... creatures... out in the garden. They're little more than men and women, in miniature. That doesn't bother you?"

Her servant cocked an eyebrow at her. "Does it bother you, my Lady?"

She thought again of her envy and horror at what her delights surely experienced as they were consumed. The thought of her servant's mouth crept back to the forefront of her consciousness, heat springing forth from within her at the thought, only to be forced under the surface again. She would not allow her passions to run amok in the dining room. "It's something I've grown comfortable with," she finally said, lifting her head to look Estelle in the eyes. "Though, it is also something I fear I should be more disturbed by than I often am. Perhaps, I think, it comes down to what one thinks of the poor creatures as: people, or food. Do they have minds anymore, or are they little more than cattle meant for a slow slaughter, hidden deep within our flesh and bones?"

Estelle sat quietly, eating her meal as Cassandra's thoughts meandered around this question. The servant's eyes half-closed, her being seeming to retreat into herself as the question soaked into her as surely as the juices from the roast saturated her palette. "Then, my Lady," she said, keeping her head bowed, "if you had to choose, what would you think of them as?"

"I could not chose between the two," Cassandra said. "I would not know which to; besides, you spend more time with them than I do. You would know better than me."

"It rather seems like you don't want to answer, not that you can't come up with an answer." Estelle lifted her head, staring her mistress straight in the eyes from across the table. "The possibility of answering one or the other makes you uncomfortable. If they are people, then that potentially makes you a monster for consuming them. However, if they are cattle, then what are we to have brought them to that state? Perhaps, my Lady, we are damned either way."

Cassandra frowned, her hands tightly gripping her utensils. "Once again, you speak so boldly to me..."

"I remind you that you invited my answer, my Lady. Furthermore, you need to be spoken to boldly, at times. You tend to be indecisive with anything that doesn't regard your own pleasure."

Cassandra set her utensils down too quickly, the silverware clattering loudly against the table. "And you think that it is your right to demand when I should make decisions?"

"It is my responsibility," Estelle said, her voice as calm as it ever was, betraying no sign of frustration or anger with her employer, "to see that you properly attend to all your responsibilities."

"My conscience is none of your business, Estelle!"

The young servant shook her head, not raising her eyes to meet Cassandra's gaze, even as the other woman stood up from her seat. Cassandra's hands were curled tightly into fists, her arms vibrating with tension at her sides. "It should be someone's business, my Lady, and as you appear to be unwilling to accept that responsibility..."

Cassandra stood, slowly raising one arm to grip the back of her chair, holding her head in the other hand. Her fingers traced along the design carved into her seat, following the lines again and again. "I don't want to be angry with you, Estelle. I desperately do not want to be angry at you. I do not want to argue the philosophical weight of the only thing keeping us out of a prison cell and bankruptcy." She looked up at the woman seated across from her. Cassandra's hair was tangled from resting against her fingers, fine strands of red looping over and around her eyes like the matted locks of a wild-woman. "Not now, and not any time in the foreseeable future. Am I clear on the matter?"

Estelle was silent for several long moments. Cassandra's lips parted, her mouth primed to speak, when the young woman raised her head to look up at her. "You are entirely clear, my Lady."

Cassandra sighed, combing her hair back into order with her fingers as she sat down. "Thank you," she said as she breathed out. She pressed her palms together as though she were preparing to pray, her forehead resting against the point of her fingers. "Thank you, Estelle."

~ 

"Are you sure you won't join me?"

Cassandra stood on one of the lower steps of the grand stairway, one hand resting on the banister as she looked downward at Estelle. The servant girl kept her distance at the foot of the stairs, matching gazes with the mistress of the house. "I thought you might enjoy a chance to enjoy tea together, upstairs."

Estelle shook her head. "I'm sorry, my Lady, but I feel as though I have intruded a little too far into your own space, today. I have chores that must be attended to, as well, and I shouldn't delay those any further."

"Oh, Estelle..." Cassandra said, her lips curling in a pout, her fingers wrapping more tightly around the rail that she held to. Something felt heavy within her; she was confident the weight came from higher up than the meal now filling her stomach. "There is always time later for those things. Every time that I see you, you are occupied with your work."

"Because, my Lady," Estelle said, her eyes closed as she frowned, "your work is my occupation. There may be time later for it in your world, but that is only because I am there, tending to it, after your thoughts have gone elsewhere."

An uncomfortable silence fell over the foyer. Why was she so bold today, Cassandra thought, unsure if the unsteadiness of her legs was owed to her longing for the servant standing statuesque before her, or from the impact of that same woman's words upon her conscience. She longed to draw the answers from her, but it seemed that Estelle slipped from her fingers each time she reached within for some pearl of truth.

"If you'll excuse me..."

“Estelle, wait!"

Her servant stopped as asked, but kept her back turned to Cassandra, "Estelle..." Cassandra said, feeling a surge of warmth across her cheeks. "Estelle, I just... I want to share my time with you."

Slowly, Estelle turned to face her. The look on the other woman's face was more expressive, more openly emotive than Cassandra was used to seeing. "In a more perfect world, my Lady," she said, her voice just loud enough for Cassandra to hear from the stairs, "it would be my pleasure to sit at a table with you, to share tea and cookies and exchange talk of our peers. As much as you might like to fantasize otherwise, though, there are dishes to be done, and your delights must be tended to."

Estelle started her way around the stairs, walking steadily towards the manor's central hallway. "Good evening to you, my Lady. Your tea will be brought to you before bedtime."

The young woman's footsteps faded into the hall, echoing softer and softer until they faded entirely from Cassandra's ears. For a fleeting moment, she pictured exactly the scene the servant girl had described: Estelle dressed finely, the two of them talking and giggling over cups of hot tea scented with chamomile and mint. The girl was smiling, a broad smile lined with the edges of her teeth and the slightest peek of that hidden space behind them. Her mind taunted her again, dwelling on the imagined sight of Estelle's mouth, her own form laying among the crumbs of a tea cookie before tilting and sliding downward, downward, downward...

Cassandra cursed, striking a fist against the banister. She couldn't decided what she wanted: to have Estelle as her lover, or to give herself to the servant girl to be trapped within her. Something within her howled in confusion and frustration, but she swallowed the sound back into herself. She was a lady, she reminded herself, a proper lady. Her world contained such nasty things; the walls of her estate were filled near to the point of bursting with mysteries and forbidden secrets, but at least, she must maintain the presentation of a woman of class and standing, even if the only one observing was the servant who was, herself, privy to those secrets.

Breathing deep to steady herself, she made her way up the stairs to her room. There, she reasoned, she could at least be alone with her frustrations and fantasies for a little while. 


	2. Chapter 2

The Selby estate covered a sizable plot of land outside of Ostinum, the grand capital of Angliea. Buried back some distance in her memory, Cassandra could remember the proud tone her father spoke with in regard to the land. The hill their home sat upon, as well as the grounds around it, had been in the family for untold generations; once, the walls of Ostinum were several day's journey by foot away from their manor, the Selby family known across the countryside for providing room and board for dignitaries traveling to meet before the royal family and its ministers.

Today, the walls were a mere hour's drive, the once-fertile greens between city and home now occupied by tightly clustered tenements and factories with towering smokestacks. At the very least, Cassandra told herself as she walked the grounds behind her home, the now centuries-old trees on the grounds served to hide away from the view the artifacts of the modern, industrial era.

By contrast, the field in front of her was a natural wonderland, filled with rows and circles of neatly tended flowerbeds and rose bushes; horticulture had once been a passion of her father's; there were many times she would come across him tending the roses while talking shop with a business relation of his. The gardens were where he seemed the happiest; only more so when he and her mother enjoyed each other's company in them. Cassandra remembered her mother telling of their wedding at the center of the rose garden, under an arch filled with blossoming blooms. The very idea of it filled her with daydreams of wedding some to-that-point unknown beloved under the same arch, exchanging vows of eternal love beneath the same colorful arch.

She laughed at the thought of it now, stopping at the fountain that stood before that same arch. What man would marry into a family that now stood in disgrace, its patriarch and lady vanished into some unknown?

Not to mention, she told herself, her own secrets.

She crossed the center of the garden, circling around the now flowerless arch, and followed the path through the other side. From here, she could see the garden workshop, a simple building sitting a short walk from the bushes. What few windows it had were covered over from the inside with curtains, allowing in light without permitting any view of what was hidden behind those walls.

This was their workshop, where Estelle kept and bred the tiny delights they sold to sustain her property and well-being. It looked plain, innocuous; no one but the two of them, however, were ever permitted inside. Not even her customers were allowed to view the workshop, for fear of them knowing too much about the process and gabbing details Cassandra did not desire to be shared with the rest of society. If there was anything she could count on her peers for, it was their inability to keep their own mouths shut.

She reached the entrance and unlocked the heavy door, making sure to knock before pushing the portal aside on its track. "I've come to look in on your progress," she said, pulling the door back into place before turning her eyes to Estelle.

Her servant was busy at the other side of the room, looking into one of the small, box-shaped pens where each delight slept individually. As Cassandra approached, she could see Estelle tapping a measure of feed out into the tiny creature's bowl, smiling in upon the miniature figure before closing the wire grate back over the opening. "Good morning, my Lady," Estelle said, offering a look back over her shoulder at Cassandra before moving on to the next pen. "I hope you were pleased with breakfast this morning?"

"Of course," she said with a smile, leaning over Estelle. She could see one of the delights inside, crawling naked on hands and knees towards the bowl her servant filled for it. Tiny, gray eyes stared up in awe at Estelle's face, before jerking up slightly at the flash of sunlight shining through a window on Cassandra's hair. The creature quickly backpedaled, its vision darting around for any cover to place between itself and the red-haired woman looking in its home.

Estelle again looked over her shoulder, frowning at Cassandra's presence. "You're frightening them, my Lady."

"I don't see how," Cassandra said, pouting; nonetheless,  she stepped back away from Estelle. "Surely, I'm no more intimidating to them than you are."

Estelle kept her back to Cassandra, continuing to move from pen to pen, offering each delight their morning meal as she whispered to them, her words too quiet and too soft for Cassandra to hear. "They are used to me. I am here each day, tending to every one of their needs. They only see you, really, at the end of their life. As such, you are largely an unknown to them."

"Then perhaps I should make my presence better known here. I wish for them to love me as they adore you."

Estelle simply shook her head. "I don't see how that would be possible. I keep them alive. You are, in no small terms, a bringer of death."

Cassandra crossed her arms, her body shaking with tightly-contained anger at her servant. "You speak out of turn!"

"I speak only when it is necessary to do so." With a sigh, Estelle turned back towards her mistress, offering her the glass jar of feed she was supplying each delight's meal from. "If it would somehow please you, my Lady, you may try to feed some of them."

Cassandra's fury subsided in an instant at Estelle's words; with the excitement of a child celebrating Christmas, she hurried to her servant's side, eyes wide as she looked into the rows of shoebox-sized pens. "May I? Can I really?" she started, then shuddered, squaring her shoulders as she stood up straight. "What am I saying? Of course I can. They are my property, after all. Now, Estelle, do show me the proper method to use."

"Of course, my Lady."

Estelle was gentle in opening one of the gates, unlatching the small, wire door with the tips of two fingers. The figure huddled inside lay on its side, backed into a corner of the small box. Cassandra watched as Estelle's fingers reached in, gently petting the creature with her fingertips, coaxing it slowly towards the front of its pen. "It is important," Estelle said, her eyes shifting between the delight and Cassandra without her head turning, "that you are gentle with them. They are delicate; their minds as much as their bodies. They have been brought to an almost animal-like state; they do not comprehend us. They merely know fear, and comfort. So it is important to comfort them, so they will be receptive to being retrieved, when the time comes."

The delight knelt on all fours, waiting and looking on with adoration at Estelle as she handed the jar of feed to Cassandra. "Offer a few bites on the tip of your finger," Estelle told her, "before filling their bowl."

Cassandra nodded and dabbed a finger against the feed packed inside the jar. A few crumbs of the material stuck between the grooves of her fingertip when she lifted it out. "It won't be frightened like the others were," she asked, looking expectantly at Estelle, "will it?"

"I cannot say, my Lady."

Slowly, Cassandra guided her finger towards the doll-like being's pen. Her hand trembled, and she held a cupped palm below it to keep from dropping any of the food she carried. "Here, darling," she said, and offered the most loving expression she could manager as she looked in on the delight. "Come and have a bit to eat."

Her out-stretched finger lay against the floor of the box; the delight approached her slowly, haltingly, its gaze bobbing up from staring at the crumbs she offered to look out on her face hovering just outside of the pen. "They're for you," she said, her words spoken barely louder than a whisper. "My gift to you."

The delight lifted one of the crumbs from her finger, hunching over the morsel as it bit into it, burying its face against the mass of food. Cassandra looked back at Estelle, awed by the surreal sight. "They really are like little animals." she said, her voice still hushed even though she was no longer speaking to the tiny creature.

She withdrew a pinch of the feed from her jar and placed it into the delight's bowl, and then carefully closed the gate back over the entrance. "In any case, they seem to be coming along well enough. Is this the remainder of this year's stock?"

Estelle nodded, taking her jar of feed back from Cassandra to continue her rounds. "They are, my lady; as well as several additional pens in the basement. I've also been successful in breeding multiple pairs so far, so next year's yield should be promising, as well."

"Good, good," Cassandra said, stepping away from Estelle to pace around the room. The stairway down into the workshop's basement was behind another door, and it, too, was locked. The basement also connected to the basement of the manor, joining the smaller building to the arcane library hidden deep below the foundation of her home.

There was no telling how old either space was; the workshop was built out of stone, much like the manor itself. It had been there all her life, as far back as she could remember. That her parents knew about these spaces was already perfectly clear. Both rooms, though, were clearly much older than that, and it remained a mystery just how far back into history her family's knowledge of dark magic reached.

"I meant to ask," Cassandra started to say, coming up out of her thoughts to turn her attention to her servant. "Would you like to have lunch with me, today, in the gardens?"

Estelle stopped, her fingers still resting on the latch to one of the pen gates. "I do not understand," she started to say, her voice crisp, "your sudden desire to spend time with me, my Lady."

"I am lonely, that is all. What other reason do I need?"

"You have the acquaintance of every man and woman of good standing in greater Ostinum. Not to mention those you know who live throughout the countryside." Estelle turned towards her, her servant's face as unmoved as ever, no matter how she spoke. "Is their company not sufficient?"

Cassandra stamped a foot against the floor, the thunk of her shoe striking the wood planks louder than she expected to be. She composed herself and brought her heels back together. "Their company bores me, Estelle. I feel as though I can speak more candidly to you than I could to any of them."

"But you will need to learn, my Lady." Estelle crossed the room, her hands laying one on top of the other over her apron as she approached Cassandra. "What will you do about all of this when you marry? Or do you expect to keep your work a secret from your lover when that time comes?"

Cassandra laughed and turned her nose up at Estelle. "I should expect that my spouse will be of such good means that it will no longer be necessary to carry on this labor of ours. Besides, it's a moot point anyway. I have yet to find a suitor who pleases me."

Estelle shook her head; they were close enough that Cassandra could see her eyelashes clearly. When had she stepped up this close? Cassandra shivered, biting her own lip to ignore the warmth welling within her. "Do you really expect," Estelle said, quietly, "that your fellow aristocrats will allow you to stop producing the delights you have supplied them with for so long?"

"They will do as I damn well please! I will not have the management of my affairs dictated to me by the salivating dogs who are now dependent on me."

"A hungry dog, though," Estelle said, her voice subdued, "can be a very vicious beast."

Cassandra shivered at the thought of being laid siege in her manor, hounded by the very customers who ate out of her hand. What she dealt in was forbidden, and if there was anything she wanted to avoid, it was causing a commotion. Threatening the supply of her delights would nearly guarantee the ruin of her reputation, not to mention the grim prospect of a fatal sentence for witchcraft once her secret became public knowledge.

Estelle stepped back from her, slowly working her way back towards the delights' pens. "They already gossip about you. A servant girl, especially one such as myself, goes easily unnoticed and hears a great deal."

Cassandra's lips curled into a sour expression. "They wouldn't dare!"

"They do dare, and whisper considerably about how strange it is that a lovely young woman such as yourself does not entertain suitors, especially at her age."

Hands curled into fists at Cassandra's sides. "I am not some old maid!"

"Yet, you are a grown woman, who lives alone with her only servant and has made no effort at marriage." Estelle sighed as she went back to her rounds. "At least, most chalk up your unwedded state to the disgrace of your parents, though you can be assured that, as more time passes, they will wonder more and more about your proclivities, my Lady."

"I am not... I am not!" Cassandra vibrated with rage. 

"Then what is it you feel, my Lady?"

Estelle turned back to her, holding the delights' feed with both hands at waist-height. Cassandra felt as though the woman's gaze could drill right through her, like an auger piercing wood. Her chest tightened, her throat twitched, and she took a step back from Estelle, mindful not to run into wall at her back. She wasn't sure what she felt. Fear? Part of her wondered what Estelle could do with her, while the other part knew full well the things the young woman had access to, just as easily as she did.

"I..." Cassandra choked out her words. "I cannot say."

"Do you not know," Estelle said, "or are you afraid of the words you know must be said, if you wish to follow through on what you feel?"

Cassandra's mouth hung open wordlessly; Estelle shook her head and moved across the room, placing the jar of feed up onto a shelf mounted above a worktable that stood across from the delights' pens. "If that is what you wish, I will join you for lunch. But I do not wish to discuss this further. Let's forget this matter entirely. Will that suffice, my Lady?"

"It will. Yes; that's fine, then." Cassandra cleared her head, letting her thoughts fill back up with the work that lay ahead that morning. There was correspondence to be sent, packages to be prepared, and appointments to be made. "I must go send out invitations out for showcasing the new vintage. My patrons will be most excited at the new flavors we'll be offering."

Estelle smiled, still keeping by the worktable. "I am sure they will, my Lady."

~ 

Outside of the gardens and the workhouse, the lands of the Selby estate were mostly open, green field, rising up and down in waves of gentle hills, much as the rest of Angliea's countryside did. Bright, emerald green grass tickled at her ankles as she walked up to the crest of one such hill. A mild summer breeze blew at her curls of red hair, the broad brim of her hat fluttering-- her hand rose quickly to hold it firmly on top of her head.

"Here," she said, and nodded to Estelle, who carried a basket of sandwiches, fruit and the makings of fresh lemonade. Her delights, notably, were left at home. While her home was surrounded in large part by trees, and it would be exceptional for someone to be wandering the grounds close enough to see, the miniature beings she bred for consumption were best kept in more private spaces such as her garden, or within the walls of the house itself.

"It is," Estelle said, setting her basket down as she laid out a blanket for the two of them. "A lovely day to have lunch outdoors, my Lady."

Estelle was dressed in her simple, black dress and apron; Cassandra offered her permission to dress in more casual clothing, but the young woman refused. "We may be sharing a meal," Estelle had said, "I am still your servant. It wouldn't be proper to be dressed otherwise." She had no rebuttal, and reluctantly declined to press matters any further. At least, Cassandra reminded herself, they were sharing lunch together, and she could admire that much of Estelle.

"Indeed it is. Oh, let's see what we have," Cassandra was quick to open the basket, her mouth watering at the sandwiches wrapped up in paper inside. Her mouth watered as she wafted the scent of their meal towards herself. "Oh, ham and roast beef! Was that why the kitchen smelt so strongly of sugar this morning?"

"Early this morning, yes, my Lady." Estelle said, squeezing the lemon she'd just sliced open into a jar of water. "You must try the salmon, as well. And the bread was delivered only a short while ago; I just finished slicing part of the loaf before we set out."

"Is it made with the spices you used on that chicken you made the month before last?" Cassandra laughed, and bit down into the meat of her sandwich, blotting the sauce from her mouth before speaking again. "I feel like my belly might burst into flames just thinking of how hot it tasted!"

Estelle poured them each paper cups of lemonade when she was finished, and nodded as she took a sandwich for herself from the basket. "I promise, I did not use nearly as much this time. Besides, you need a more varied diet, my Lady. You eat far too many heavy meats, and too many sweets, and not nearly enough lighter meats and greens."

"Are you my doctor now," Cassandra scoffed, savoring the cool sweetness of her drink, "as well as my housemaid?"

"I simply intend the best for you, my Lady."

They sat in silence for some time, each enjoying their respective meal as they watched tall, puffy clouds drift by overhead. It was quiet, the air dotted only with the occasional sound of a singing bird, and in that quiet, Cassandra could feel emotion swelling within her.

Only their picnic basket separated the two of them. Estelle sat with her legs out and crossed at the ankles, the fabric of her skirt pinned between her legs to keep from flying up and exposing her as she ate her lunch, one small bite at a time. It took every effort for her not to focus, not to dwell on how her servant's drink left beads of sparkling liquid clinging to her lips until the tip of her tongue swept them away into her mouth. No, she thought to herself, not here, not right now.

She was so close to Estelle, though, nearly as close as they were to one another the afternoon they spent in the garden. Her body, her heart, ached to pull closer to the young woman, to wrap an arm around her hip and sit beside her. No, she told herself, the word echoing more loudly than before within her head. She was proper. Proper women didn't dream lustfully of their servants; they romanced bachelors and made them their spouses. They built families and lineages. They did not, most of all, toss themselves about in bed dwelling on the thought of being consumed by a beautiful, young woman of an entirely different class from herself!

"My Lady?"

Cassandra blinked and gasped; Estelle hovered over her, a napkin in her hand. It was only then that she registered the cold sensation against her thigh, and the paper cup rolling towards the edge of the blanket, crumbled inwards where her hand tightened around it. "My Lady," Estelle repeated, "are you alright?"

"I'm..." Cassandra said, stumbling on her words. Even through the napkin, she could feel the warmth of her servant's hand. Compared to the prickling cold that stung her leg presently, it was as more soothing, more tender, than any gesture she'd received in years. As soothing, she thought, as her mother nursing a scraped knee, or her father's arms around her after a nightmare had sat her bolt upright from sleep. As gentle as she dreamed her lover, her husband, might be one day as they curled beside one another after intimacies in the twilight hours before dawn.

"Estelle," Cassandra said; her voice, she realized, was quieter than usual. "Do you ever miss your family?"

Her servant blinked, her fingers still curled around the now-soaked napkin. "I'm sorry?"

"Well, I imagine you didn't simply spring from the earth, fully-grown." Cassandra laughed at her own joke; even this sound was subdued, she realized. What had come over her? "You must have had a mother and father. Perhaps you even had siblings."

Estelle's head bowed, hiding her face behind waves of black hair. "You said," Cassandra continued, "A long time ago, that you came to Angliea from another country. How could you; no, what I mean is, why would you leave them all so far behind you?"

The other woman's hands kneaded and turned the cloth napkin, over and over, drops of water trickling down onto the apron that lay over her dress. The sugar water, Cassandra thought, would stick to her hands until she washed them, leaving them smelling sweet. The thought of raising Estelle's hands to her lips, breathing in that sweetness and pressing her mouth to them, sent a shiver down her spine. "Why would you cut yourself off from them like that?"

"I did not," Estelle finally said, the sound of her voice surprising Cassandra; she half-expected the woman not to answer such a personal question. "I severed nothing from my family, my Lady. There is a time for all children to leave home. We become adults, and we must find our own way forward. My mother and my father, my brother and my sisters, I love them all very dearly, and I do miss them, at times."

"But?"

"But I think of what I would tell them, of all the things I have seen and done." Estelle lifted her head, and Cassandra saw she was smiling, even as a tear or two clung to the corners of her eyes. "The world you live in is a very different one from mine, my Lady. No; they are both the same and different, I suppose. All people have pomp and pageantry, I suppose. We just go about it differently; perhaps why we celebrate is what's different, when you get down to it."

Before Cassandra could reply, Estelle lifted herself up onto her knees, quickly gathering the refuse from their picnic back into her basket. "We shouldn't be out here all day. The sun's warmth might feel nice, but you'll turn a painful shade of red if you're out here too long, my Lady."

"Oh." Cassandra shook her head; she was full of so many thoughts, she couldn't voice everything that was trying to rush its way into her voice box. "You're right. You're most definitely right, Estelle. Besides, I have work to finish. The first showings for our delights will be in a few weeks time and I must finish ordering all of the necessities for them." She quickly got back to her feet, her hand brushing against the spot that Estelle had cleaned on her skirt more times than was necessary. "I'm glad you joined me. Lunch was most delightful with your company."

"I'm glad, my Lady." Estelle quickly folded up their blanket and set it on top of her basket. "Shall we go, then?"

Cassandra turned back around, having already taken a few steps down the hillside. Estelle still stood at the crest of the hill, the sunlight rolling through her hair like the waves of grass rippling along the countryside. Her heart tightened in her chest; Estelle was beautiful, she realized; profoundly so. She was, in a way, no different than her home, her family; filled with hidden spaces and mysteries yet unspoken. She longed to see them, but-- she supposed-- those would have to wait for another time.

"Yes," she said, and nodded to the other woman. "Let's go."

 ~

Just as the formal dining room now sat shuttered and unused, the formal parlor remained locked as well since Cassandra's parents disappeared. Instead, she used a smaller, private living space opposite her bedroom and office above the ground floor of the house. It stood above the formal parlor, and its fireplace made use of the same chimney, but the smaller room made it easier to feel comfortable in the evening, when she was often by herself.

When she was a child, her parents used the room as a library and reading room; so many evenings were spent, sitting in her mother's lap as she read a story to her while her father enjoyed a glass of brandy on the rocks. He often chimed in on the fanciful tales she was told, describing in far more vivid detail the monsters being fought by heroic knights.

The bookshelves were still there, filled with all of the great classics and printed galleries of art that rightful belonged to a family of class. Cassandra prided herself on making use of the books stored in here; so many of the aristocracy treated books like a decoration; beyond the books studied by schoolboys and girls in classrooms or under the watchful eye of a tutor, very few were read once those children outgrew educational institutions.

Not her; her hand cradled a tea cup, pouring a thin stream of the warm liquid into her mouth as she fingered through the pages of a tome of Continental mythology. It was strange to consider how much of what she once thought was pure fantasy was, in fact, real. Stories of magic, of wise witches who hoarded ancient, primal forces, and mighty sorcerers who commanded the very elements of nature, filled so many of the pages of the tales she read as a little girl. She knew now that magic was real, a mysterious and arcane science she'd only scratched the surface of. Perhaps, she wondered, the monsters and beasts of those sames tales, too, were a reality hidden from the sight of ordinary men.

She chuckled, resting the anthology in her lap, as Estelle entered the room with the teapot and a covered dish. The sudden appearance of her servant surprised her, the resulting jostle to her teacup almost spilled the lukewarm beverage inside onto her chest. "I hope," she said, setting her cup down as she rested a hand against her breastbone, "you haven't discovered some spell that lets you walk without sound in the tomes downstairs!"

"That would be silly, my Lady," Estelle said as she set the tray down. "I simply tread lightly, as not to disturb you."

"You disturb me when you enter the room without warning!" Cassandra sighed. "Oh, never mind about it."

Estelle replaced the half-drunk tea cup with a clean one, setting a freshly tied bag of tea leaves inside before pouring hot water over them. "Do you suppose," Cassandra asked, the smell of mint and spice rising to her nose, "that the monsters people told about in myths are as real as the magic we practice here?"

Estelle shook her head, hardly disturbing the hands pouring water from the teapot. She set the kettle down and placed a plate of cookies next to Cassandra's tea. "I have not seen such creatures myself, so I could not say."

"But do you think they exist? Even if you haven't seen one."

"I suppose anything is possible, my Lady."

Estelle started to turn for the door; Cassandra raised a hand, gesturing for her to stay by her side. "That is hardly an answer! I wish to have a conversation with you, Estelle, and each time you keep trying to flutter away before we can go into much depth."

"Because there is work to be done, my Lady. I have said as much before, on many occasions." Estelle sighed. "Conversation is the luxury of those who have time to be idle from more pressing concerns."

"Conversation," Cassandra said, leaning towards Estelle from her chair, "is the root of what makes us civilized beings!"

Estelle stood motionless, her face stern as she stared down at her seated mistress. "Do you, then, consider me uncivilized?"

Cassandra's mouth flapped wordlessly; the fireplace crackled behind her, the only sound in the room for a few moments. Her book, slowly sliding down her legs as she moved around in her seat, tilted from its precarious balance on her knees and struck hard against the wood floor. "You do what you do here out of necessity, Estelle. I did not mean what I said that way. I have a profound admiration for you."

"Of necessity, my Lady?" Estelle seemed to shake within her dress, her teeth biting into her lower lip. Cassandra shrunk away from her, curling up into the side of her chair furthest from her servant. "Out of who's necessity? Can you not feed yourself, launder your own clothing, set you own table and dust your own rooms? Do you lack the physical means to accomplish these tasks yourself?"

"I... I depend on you, Estelle." Cassandra's words trembled as much as she did; she wishes she had a blanket, a coat, something to draw up between herself and the woman bristling before her. "I have no skill in the kitchen. No patience to clean rooms or wash clothing and bedding. These things are not taught to the children of the aristocracy."

"Then what is it that you want of me, my Lady? Do you want a servant, or a friend? Because you can hardly have both in the same person!"

Cassandra felt in disorder, her mind a tumble of feelings and thoughts. She longed for Estelle's company, to converse and share secrets with her; she lusted for the lean muscle and soft curves of her body, and both feared and craved the possibility of oblivion within her flesh. She depended on her, but despite her servant's protests, she was both keeper and friend to her. "But you, you are both of those things and so much more to me."

Estelle frowned and snapped up the tray she'd brought into the room, the dishes on top rattling from the swiftness of her movement. "You are little more than a child, my Lady. Indecisive and selfish. You want and you want, but you give nothing of yourself in return!"

She then turned on her heels and hurried out of the room, pulling the door shut behind her with the hand not balancing her serving tray.

Cassandra wasn't sure how long she stayed curled up in her chair, trembling at the volume, the power, behind Estelle's voice. Its power both frightened her, and inflamed the passion she kindled for the other woman within herself. Her life was, each day, held carefully in her servant's hands. How easy would it be for Estelle to take utter control of her? Who knew what spells and sorcery lay undiscovered in the books buried below the manor; perhaps they could give Estelle the means to turn about their relationship, to make Cassandra her servant and manipulate her as easily as a puppeteer willed their dolls to perform for a crowd.

The possibilities made her shiver, and grew as wicked and monstrous as the lurid tales of monsters and magic filling the sitting room's shelves. Would she really despise such a fate? Becoming a mere plaything or pet, or even a sweetened treat, for Estelle would at least free her from worries of her debts and obligations, social and otherwise.

That was irresponsible, though; exactly the sort of thing that enraged Estelle. She was little more than a child hiding behind her mother's skirts, only the fabric she clung behind were her own fantasies of the woman who shared this house with her. 

Slowly, she let her limbs stretch back out, her feet feeling carefully for the floor until they reached the wood planks gently warmed by the fireplace. She left her tea at the table and nudged the book she was reading aside with her foot, arms wrapped around herself as she moved towards the crackling glow recessed below the mantle. Was that so wrong though, she told herself, to so thoroughly embrace her desires? 

She made her way to the fireplace until she stood just before the raised stones of the hearth. The flames within the box leaped and sparked across the logs and charcoal that fueled them, the smell of the burning wood quickly going to her head. There was a fire, too, within her servant, one she longed to take into herself. Estelle's passion, her energy, eclipsed Cassandra's own feeble will. She wanted to dive into it, be consumed by it, but also longed to draw that fire into her own belly and outshine the milling face of the idle rich who so turned their noses up at the woman they only politely acknowledged as their peer.

She would have that fire, Cassandra told herself, the firelight throwing sharp light and shadow across her face. She would have it herself, whatever it took to possess it.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cassandra's fantasies of Estelle get the best of her, and push her to do things she may come to regret...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains fantasy depictions of cannibalism and non-consensual sexual situations. Reader discretion is advised.

There were few things Cassandra feared more than the night.

It was primal; she knew that. All persons, no matter how refined, no matter how cultured and poised, carried that same dread of darkness the species possessed eons ago in prehistory. It was the reason humanity captured the lightning and transformed its spark into fire. It was the very purpose in civilization: to push back the boundaries of darkness as far as could be managed.

Yet, each night, the night pushed back, and encroached deep within civilization's borders with the setting of the sun. It could be fought in the city, where street lanterns and the lamps of bars and inns still working late into the night, catering to secrets sobbed onto counters or spilled onto mattresses, out of sight and mind of propriety. In the countryside, though, in the hills and woods that still existed largely unspoiled by industry, there was nothing to turn back the night but the dim glow of the moon and the twinkle of the stars.

Cassandra drew her blankets up over herself, wrapping them around her body tightly until they constrained her own movements, binding her arms and legs tightly together.

Her eyes closed.

Her eyes opened, and she was laying on gleaming china, tanned fingers delicately setting a tea cup back onto its saucer. There was conversation far above Cassandra's head; what it was, though, was unintelligible, too distant for her to understand beyond the white noise of dishes clinking together and the sounds of muffled laughter. String and melted dark chocolate bound her together; she opened her mouth to speak and found her voice silenced, suppressed by the sorcery that left her so small. Her heart raced within her chest, shivering as much as the glaze coating her would allow. Estelle had turned on her, made her into a delight, and now took her place as head of her house. The ladies of Ostinum gathered around the table, chattering with the elegant woman, pleasant face framed with raven black hair, and she-- heir of the Selby family-- lay waiting on a plate to be eaten.

Eaten by her servant!

Estelle towered over her, as imposing as the monuments of the ancients, built in tribute to their gods. Her hand gestured, moving deftly through the air above Cassandra's head to punctuate a discussion she was not privy to hear. It amused the others, though, who laughed, while Estelle smiled sweetly at them and soaked in their praise.

Long, soft fingers with manicured nails reached down to pluck her from the plate.

Estelle held her carefully, mindful that the chocolate would start to melt beneath her fingertips, opting to rest them against the string binding her miniature treat instead. Her servant's features were crafted as finely as any novelist’s description of their sex, as any painting in praise of the female nude. Soft and fleshed out, but not so round as to look child-like. She was unmistakably a grown woman. Long, dark lashes framed her brown eyes; her hair pulled back except for a few curling locks that hung around her head, the rest drawn up into a bun.

Then, there were her lips.

Lush and dark red, curled up in the slightest smile, they spoke words that she still could not hear. Was this part of the magic? The bow of her upper lip lifted up from the cushion below it, the pearl-colored line of her teeth glinting in the sunlight that filtered through the windows of the grand dining room. Her mouth opened for a moment, pink tongue moistening the surfaces of her lips, preparing them to ease Cassandra inside.

No!

She twisted in her bed, struggling against her sheets to find her hands sunk between her legs. Her face felt hot; her lungs ached in the humid summer air as she gasped for breath. Still, her blanket was wrapped around her tight. She closed her eyes, pushing against it, pressing her fingers against soft flesh. That was what she wanted, was it not? To stare at Estelle's smile, to watch as it opened for her, her tongue curling and squeezing her helpless body as those lips sealed the light away from her forever. To writhe against the smothering embrace of her throat and be lost, lost entirely to that woman?

She turned onto her belly, two digits slick from sliding within her as she pressed her face into the pillow. It was and it wasn't; she wasn't sure at all whether she craved the oblivion of her servant's belly, or whether the thought scared her more than any moonless night could manage to. Her muscles trembled at the thought of being dissolved, of losing herself hidden behind that face that guarded so much.

And the thought-- the thought!-- of being nothing more than a treat, a sweet chocolate to be savored; that tongue probing her every curve, squeezing the flavor from her hip, her belly, her breast. No, damn the chocolate, the coverings! She would want Estelle to have her as raw as the first delight Cassandra tasted, to let nothing stand between her flesh and Estelle's senses. She wanted to feel the woman's every reaction vibrate through her, the sound of her pleasure as she found a spot she found particularly pleasing, and chose to pause there before working her back deeper into her mouth.

Cassandra gasped one last time, choking out a cry as she clenched her fingers in one final climax before falling onto her side. Her pillow was damp where she'd bitten down into it, her bed sheet stuck to her back, sweat having soaked through her nightgown to render them both translucent where they formed to her body. Her hair tangled on itself, rust-colored curls laying in her eyes as she gasped for breath. This was not healthy, she told herself, and forced her body to sit up. Her legs kicked the bedding away from her skin, peeling it from the damp of her skin, while her arms worked her nightgown over her head and tossed it aside.

There she sat, moonlight sparkling on her sweat-soaked skin, hunched over until her head nearly rested on her drawn-up knees, her hands resting against her still-trembling chest, her heart still pounding under her ribs. This fantasy would be the death of her, she thought, the scent of her own musk going to her head. One way or another, it would be her undoing.

She just wasn't sure if she minded the possibility, anymore.

~ 

"Really, my Lady, what were you doing last night that you got your sheets so wet?"

Cassandra blushed and sank down into her bath, keeping her nose above the water just enough to still manage to breathe. It was only the expectant stare on Estelle's face as she sat on her stool on the opposite side of the bathroom, washing the smell of sweat out of the cloth. The task was normally reserved for the scullery, set away from the rest of the house by the hall joining the servant's wing, but with Estelle the only person working in the house, it made more sense for the task to be done in the bathroom.

There was also the fact that Cassandra would rather have her company than soak alone in the bath that influenced matters.

"I was having a dream," she finally replied, sitting up enough to bring her mouth up out of the water. "Or a nightmare. I'm not really sure which."

"How can you not be sure what you were having was a dream or a nightmare?"

"Because sometimes what we see in our sleep is unclear," said Cassandra, frowning. "The images and emotions get all jumbled up. They don't always make entirely good sense."

Estelle nodded, her attention more on the blanket she washed than on her bathing mistress. "I saw in the papers about a scientist, speaking about how what we see in our dreams is very clear, actually, despite the jumbled images."

Cassandra blinked. How had she missed something like that? She was usually more abreast of the news, especially in a field so novel and intriguing. "Is that so?"

"It was, at least as far as I could see. I'm afraid I don't recall her name, though." Estelle lifted the water-soaked sheet out of its tub, wringing it out as she stood up. "I was in the middle of running errands in town and happened to have a glance at a paper on one of the newsstands on my way. It seemed like a field you would be interested in, so I thought it worth mentioning."

"I appreciate the sentiment, though it doesn't do me a damn bit of good, not knowing the doctor's name." Cassandra sighed as she sank back into the tub, tipping her head back to allow her hair to sink down into the soap and water. "Besides, I'm not really sure I want to understand the meaning of my dreams."

Estelle was standing, she noticed, her sleeves drawn back to keep them out of the water while she was washing the sheets. The damp cloth was draped over her bare forearms, a few clusters of soap bubbles clinging to the backs of her hands. She was dreaming of those same hands the night before, Cassandra reminded herself, her eyes fixed on them, dreaming of the woman plucking her from a plate to slide between her lips.

"Is the bath water getting cold, my Lady?"

Cassandra startled, a splash of water spilling up out of the tub and onto the tile floor. Her servant was too damned perceptive! "Yes, perhaps. Can you run a bit more warm water, Estelle, before you hang the sheets to dry?"

"Of course, my Lady."

Estelle careful lay the damp sheets aside on a wooden rack and washed her hands before approaching the tub. She left her sleeves rolled, and carefully sank one arm down into the bathwater to unplug the stopper as the other hand opened the faucet to let hot water back up from the boiler under the house. For a moment, water drained faster than it was replaced, leaving soap clinging to Cassandra's shoulders and breasts. Her knees pressed together, feeling suddenly exposed, despite knowing that she'd stood nearly nude before Estelle plenty of times while the woman helped dress her for this party or that ball.

Those, however, were before her present infatuation with the woman. Now, the mere presence of the servant girl's hands near her bare skin made her shiver. At least that, she thought, she could blame on the water if the question came back up. Though, now she could not help but wonder how much of her thoughts were plain and easily ready by the other woman. Had she read more about the inner workings of the mind than she was letting on? Her head swam with suspicions of what her servant might know, and not know.

In moments, though, the stopper was back in its place over the drain, and warm water again poured back into her bath. The other woman's limb grazed against the calf of her left leg as it withdrew from the water, hardly noticing-- at least, as far as Cassandra could tell-- the jolt that rattled through her body. The tap was shut once the water reached the level she preferred. Estelle stood and retrieved the bedsheets from their place, smiling at Cassandra as she walked towards the door. "I'll be back once I have these pinned up to dry, my Lady, to help you dress."

"I should be able to dress myself," Cassandra said quickly; too quickly, perhaps, she thought. Were her cheeks still red from where the arm Estelle had thrust into the bathwater brushed against her leg? "If you might prepare a light breakfast instead, while I catch up on the mail I didn't quite get to last night?"

"Of course, my Lady."

She waited until Estelle was clear of the room before sighing, sinking into the freshly warmed water until her mouth was just above the surface. She blew at the bubbles floating in front of her, launching them upwards to watch them float lazily through the air back down towards the bathwater. This couldn't continue, she warned herself. The spring within her was quickly being wound up, and would need to discharge itself, sooner or later. No amount of autoerotic fondling would satisfy the mounting desire to touch, and be touched, by her servant.

No one would ever have to know, she assured herself. It was simply something between the two of them. It could remain hidden, like every other secret in her house. There was no need for anyone else to know anything.

~ 

Cassandra's fingers riffled through the letters before her on the table while her other hand twirled a slice of an apple between her fingers, the juice starting to stick to her skin. "If you're not careful," Estelle said, leaning to pour orange juice from a pitcher into her glass, "that's going to drip onto your clothing. Also, your porridge is going to grow cold."

"Oh," Cassandra said, head bobbing up suddenly from the papers in front of her. "Right; I hate it when it's cold." She bit off a piece of the apple and set it aside, stirring her cereal to an even warmth. "They're still importing fruit from the Americans? I thought relations had soured with them, again."

"Their leadership recently changed," Estelle noted, setting a copy of the newspaper in front of Cassandra. "It was part of the incoming president's campaign to normalize relations with us again. Though I imagine the farmers in their country had a hand in influencing that. The dock hands in the markets in Ostinum mentioned they've had bumper crops the past two years, and we were their biggest buyer."

"And all of that fruit rotting," Cassandra said, taking a long draw of the opaque, golden drink in her glass. The sharpness of the squeezed citrus was a welcome contrast to the plainness of her cereal. Even the cinnamon that Estelle added to her porridge could only make so palatable. "What a waste it would be. My regards to their President... Revels?" She glanced again at the newspaper, turning it over to look below the fold. "Revels, right. Son of a congressman there, apparently."

"What about your letters?" Estelle set her pitcher aside, standing at the ready by Cassandra's seat. "Any word about the presentations in the coming weeks?"

"Well, for one, I'll be having a private audience here with Princess Anne-- here, in my home, the Crown Princess of the Empire!-- in two months time, so we'll certainly have to make major preparations for that." She pushed her bowl away for a moment, dabbing her mouth with a napkin before showing the Princess' response to Estelle. "I'll want to prepare some special flavors, just for her. Do you think you could manage, Estelle?"

"The berries I have been growing in the garden have proved a great success for me, my Lady. I was thinking of experimenting with a compote topping. The berries should be ready to pick in a week or two. Her Royal Highness' visit will be an excellent opportunity to surprise her with our capabilities."

"Oh, I like that!" Cassandra clapped her hands together, shuddering in her excitement. "Naturally, I'll want to test what you come up with."

"Naturally, my Lady." Estelle nodded back towards the letters. "What of the others?"

Cassandra returned the princess' letter to the bottom of the stack, thumbing through the next few before her. "Confirmations from Ladies Milford, Starling, and Wilemere regarding their presentation two weeks from now. Starling's came by telegraph; she assured me she'll make it, despite the fact that she's been out of the country on a holiday." She sighed, nearly dropping the letters back onto the table. "At least Violette is getting her order done and out of the way early on. The thought of her strutting about in my family's house the way she does makes me ill!"

Estelle showed no reaction to her disdain. Instead nudging the bowl Cassandra had pushed aside back towards her mistress. "I hope you will manage to maintain you composure around her, my Lady."

"Of course I will. What choice do I have?" Cassandra shoveled her cereal into her mouth, one cheek puffing out like a rodent's behind the pout of her lips. "Like I said, she'll be here for the weekend and then I don't have to see her for another year, so the sooner this is done and over with, the happier I will be."

She made quick work of the cereal, washing the taste of it out of her mouth with the last of her juice, turning back to the remainder of her sliced apple. With the chatter of business slipping away, Cassandra found herself at a loss for words. Part of her ached to say something about her dream, or to speak of her feelings for Estelle. She feared her reaction, though, as much as she despised her own silence. What could she say that wouldn't simply disgust the other woman? Moreover, what if she were rejected? Estelle may have no interest at all in her own sex, no desire to reciprocate the passions that were eating away at her from inside.

"Estelle," she started, her voice trembling. "Can you have a seat? I know you're busy, but can you sit for just a moment with me?"

Her servant blinked, but slowly pulled out a chair beside Cassandra, turning it so that she could sit facing her. "Yes, my Lady?"

Cassandra swallowed hard; she wished she had water, her throat still thick with her breakfast, making it harder to speak than what the constriction of her chest and rapid heartbeat already did to her. "I know that, the day before, in the garden workshed. I assured you that I would never raise the topic of my feelings concerning you again. I understand that I said that."

Estelle's face instantly went sour, her eyes narrowing as her lips turned up in a frown. "That was the understanding we came to, yes. Are you meaning to breach that now, my Lady?"

"I beg you to understand, Estelle!" Cassandra turned in her seat to face her servant, falling forward, her elbows resting on her knees as her face laid upon her palms. "You are filling my dreams, possessing my every other waking thought. I don't understand what's come over me these past few months, but I cannot put you out of my mind!"

Estelle was stonefaced, still and silent in the face of her mistress collapsing. Cassandra could already feel tears clouding her vision, building against her fingertips to rain down onto her skirt. "My eyes fix on you whenever you're in the room with me, Estelle! I can't read any of my romances because all I think of as I turn the pages is you! I can't even dream of a man's embrace because when I sleep, all I can envision is your face, your hair spilling down your back, the firmness of your arms and..."

She sobbed out loud, fingers reaching up her face and into her hair, locking like hooks through those rust red curls. It was all just spilling out of her! She clenched her teeth shut, pressed her lips against themselves, trying to hold back the torrent of words that threatened to spill like water from a burst dam. Anything else she could say would sound only more deranged, more lewd. If she kept on, she'd give up her darkest secret, her desire to be destroyed within the woman she ached for. Estelle surely would not have the patience for that, and would flee on the spot, seeking a mistress less possessed with madness.

"My Lady."

A spot of warmth pressed against Cassandra's cheek, starting her. She looked up, hands falling to her lap, leaving her eyes red and tear-filled. Estelle leaned in towards her, an arm against her own legs to balance herself as she reached out, her fingers caressing Cassandra's cheek. It was too easy, too natural, to press herself against those fingertips, that touch, Cassandra realized. It felt so perfect to let this woman reach into her and massage her aching, tensing heart.

"There is no need for you to tie yourself in knots like this." Estelle's voice was gentle, sweet like a spring rain; the sort you could stand in, that you almost felt that you could bathe in, warm and cool, soothing and refreshing, all at once. "If you long for my embrace, my Lady Cassandra, I will gladly invite you into my arms."

Cassandra's lips trembled, her eyes wide as she stared up at Estelle. Wet as her eyes were with tears, the sunlight coming through the window behind Estelle seemed to encircle her head with an angelic halo. "You really mean that? That I'm... I'm not a madwoman for wanting you, Estelle?"

Estelle's face finally showed a smile, her head shaking slowly from side to side. "There is nothing mad in wanting the companionship, the intimate companionship, of the only person who knows you as you truly are."

"Oh, Estelle!"

Cassandra tried to sit up, only to find the other woman's hands gently insisting that she remain in her seat. There they rested, Estelle's hands on her shoulders, her eyes gazing down on Cassandra from above her head. "But first, you must make a choice. You must dissolve my obligations to you. I can be your lover, my Lady, or I can be your servant. I cannot be both. I made this clear you last night and you must make that choice now if you want things to change."

Her skin felt as though it were cracking like the porcelain body of a broken  doll, like lines splitting across thawing ice. "I can't look  after all of this myself, I can't."

Estelle's hands gripped her more firmly. "We would look after it all,  together! You wouldn't be alone!"

"But then, everyone would; there'd be no hiding it, and I!"

"You are a woman of class and stature, Lady Cassandra!" The words felt as sharp as a blow from the back of the other woman's hand  across her face. "You have every means to stand up over their gossip and not give a damn what their chattering mouths might say! There is no law against  it. The Crown may not endorse it, but She does not condemn it either!"

"I would be humiliated! Ruined!"

Estelle's hands grabbed for her face. Cassandra gasped at the power in the  woman's grip. "Do you love me or not, Cassandra Selby? If your thoughts are of nothing but me, then why listen to any of them?"

Cassandra wrenched herself away, too frightened of Estelle's grip on her to let her hold onto her any longer. Her chair screeched back across the  hardwood floor, her seat nearly toppling over as she stumbled up onto her feet.  "Because they are my peers! They can destroy me, leave me penniless! I would  have nothing left, Estelle, no family, no means, nothing at all!"

"Then what am I?" Estelle's voice strained, the start of her own tears starting to well up in the corners of her eyes. Cassandra couldn't remember the last time she'd seen Estelle cry. She couldn't remember if she'd ever seen the other woman cry, in all the years they'd known one another. "If you would be nothing without your status, without your position, without all of these things around you, then what do you suppose that makes me, in your eyes?"

She would be one of them, she thought. One of the common rabble, struggling to make ends meet every day. Would she have to work in a factory or field, to ensure that she and Estelle would survive? The thought of being pressed into labor, into working with her hands, terrified her. She wasn't any good at it! She had no training, no preparation, for such menial things. How could she provide? What would she even do with herself? And the mockery, the endless mockery from her former peers, once they saw the once haughty Selby heir working at a mechanical spinning machine, producing their clothes. She could never show her face in public again after that.

"I can't, Estelle," Cassandra said, barely able to hold herself up as her body shook. "I just cannot."

Estelle's hands curled and tightened into fists at her sides, the other woman looking away from her quickly before storming from the room. "Then neither can I."

Cassandra didn't wait for Estelle's footsteps to recede. She collapsed to her knees, face pressed into her palms, trapping the wet of her tears against her cheeks. What had she done, she thought; what would become of the two of them, now that this tension was pulled out to the forefront. It would be impossible for them to function the same, as a Lady and her servant. 

That was for certain. Things would not be the same in her house, ever again.

~ 

Cassandra's sleep was listless again, haunted by the same dreams that plagued her the night before, and night after night prior to that. Her mind, her heart, and her lusts raced with the same visions of Estelle's fingers, her lips, the walls of her throat closing in around her. Her body shook as she lay on her belly, thighs crushing in on her wrist from either side, the thousands of red ribbons of her hair spilling over her pillow as she groaned. It wasn't enough. It wasn't enough!

She cursed and withdrew her fingers, pressing her palms down into her mattress to sit herself up. The mere visions of Estelle no longer sufficed; things had progressed too far, too quickly, for her to merely dream of the other woman's body and be satisfied. She needed to touch her, to know to feel of Estelle's breath on her own face, the texture of her skin and lips and tongue. She need to know the heat of her servant's body pouring down upon her own.

Estelle would never see her, she chided herself, not after what had passed between them that morning.

Her feet sought the floor as she stripped out of her nightgown. Bare but unseen by any eyes but her own, she crossed the room to her wardrobe, finding a fresh gown to replace the sweat-soaked garment she'd worn to bed. She had to know, had to understand for herself. Besides, she reminded herself, this was her house, and Estelle worked for her. She could enter the servants' rooms whenever she desired, for whatever reason. It was nothing of any consequence. She was the Lady of the Manor and could do as she damn well pleased.

 _Estelle would never forgive you_ , a voice within her cautioned. _She may be cross with you now for your indecision, but she will never forgive you for intruding upon her in the night like this._

Cassandra snarled and slammed the doors of her wardrobe shut, her gown draped over her arm. Shut up, she snapped at herself.

 _And what will you do_ , the voice within retorted. _Bewitch herself and crawl up upon Estelle as though she, an aristocratic lady, were nothing more than an insect?_

Of course not. It would be suicide. She'd live vicariously through her delights, that's all. Just a few delights shared between two ladies, in the dimmest hours of the night. That's all it was. That's all.

The laughter echoed through her head. _Coward_ , the voice repeated, over and over, echoing inside of her. 

 _Coward_.

She pulled her gown over her head and rushed out of room, headed for the pantry and the servants' wing of the house. If she moved fast enough, she figured, she could leave this nasty voice behind in her room.

~ 

Estelle startled when she knocked on the door. Cassandra could hear her gasp, and then the creak of her bed beneath her as she sat up in the hurry. "My Lady?" she called out through the closed door. The fluster to her voice made Cassandra both blush and smile. "What is it? Why are you up so late?"

"I haven't been able to sleep, that's all. Too many restless dreams." She laid her hand on the doorknob, thinking to turn it for a moment before pulling back. No. Let her open the door. Let her invite me in. Then it's fair. If I’m invited, them my presence is welcome. "May I come in?"

A few moments of silence. The rapid throb of Cassandra's heart echoed through herself. Part of her wondered if Estelle could hear it, before dismissing the thought as ridiculous. "Of course, my Lady," said Estelle. "Come in."

She opened the door, careful not to drop the box tucked under her arm, or to move so quickly that the candlestick she carried could blow out.

Estelle's room was simple, decorated sparsely with a dresser and her bed. The woman herself was out of bed, drawing back the curtains over the window to allow in the light of the nearly-full moon hanging in the sky. A candle and leather-bound book sat by the bedside. Cassandra couldn't see the title of the work, nor was her attention on it for very long.

Her mind was entirely upon Estelle within moments of entering the room. She had never seen her servant dressed in anything besides her uniform. The sight of her in little more than a cream-colored nightgown was nearly scandalous, the light material fluttering around her legs and hips as she walked. "You can set your candle by the bedside, if you want," Estelle said, gesturing to the small, square table. "The heat from it must feel suffocating, as stiffing as it is already tonight."

Cassandra nodded and set down her candlestick, seating herself on the bed. Estelle joined her a moment later, lands laid in her lap as she half-turned towards her. "Is something the matter? I can prepare you a warm drink, if a nightmare has made you anxious. You mentioned the other morning that you've been having such strange dreams, lately." She closed her eyes. "I imagine; perhaps how at odds we have been has contributed to your nightmares. I've had difficulty sleeping myself, some nights."

"Perhaps," Cassandra said; she sounded breathless. Why should she be scared, she told herself. This was just a friendly meeting, a confidence between two women. It was nothing more than that. "Perhaps you're right."

Estelle started to cross in front of her, moving towards the door, when Cassandra’s hand darted out towards her. Her hand wrapped around the other woman’s arm, her bare arm, skin sandy brown and warm in contrast with her own. Cassandra’s fingertips pressed firmly into that slender limb, neither pulling on it, nor releasing her grip. “My Lady,” Estelle said, her voice hushed, her throat twitching at the pressure on her arm. “If you will let me go, I will prepare you a warm drink and help you back up to your room.”

“No, there’s no need for that.” Cassandra could hear and feel every creak and groan of the bed frame beneath her as her anxiety vibrated through it. She gave the slightest pull to Estelle’s arm, urging her to come back towards the bed. “Please, Estelle. Sit down with me?”

Her movements halting and unsure, Estelle nevertheless took a seat beside Cassandra, her hands laying upon one another in her lap. Cassandra let her own fingers slide along the edge of the tin that now sat upon her lap. Estelle recognized it at once, and frowned at her. “We only have a limited number of the delights to sell, my Lady,” she said, reaching towards the box. “You shouldn’t keep enjoying them for yourself like this.”

“No!” The word clapped like thunder across the room, Estelle pulling her hand back immediately. Cassandra bit her lip; that was too harsh, she scolded herself inside, much too harsh. They were friends. That was what she wanted, wasn’t it? “No, no my Estelle. These aren’t for me. Not just for me. I wanted to share them with you. You seemed to enjoy the one I offered you in the garden, and thought you should enjoy more of the fruit of your labors.”

“My Lady, that’s entirely unnecessary…”

Cassandra shook her head, and reached out, her hand trembling as it approached Estelle’s face. Her servant did not pull away, did not withdraw from her, not yet at least. Cassandra’s fingers brushed against the other woman’s cheek, following it’s curve downward to the corner of her mouth, shivering as she once more felt the texture of Estelle’s lips against her skin. Estelle’s breath was warm, quick, rolling over the back of Cassandra’s hand as Estelle’s eyes followed her, waiting to see what she was doing. 

The other hand unlatched the tin box on her lip, plucking one of the delights out of its paper-lined space inside. It simply held the creature for the moment, while the hand on Estelle’s face pressed its fingers against her lips, slowly urging the woman’s mouth open. Her thumb stroked Estelle’s skin; she let out a hushed gasp as her fingers slipped over Estelle’s tongue, the edge of her teeth scraping ever so slightly across her skin. Her heart racing within her, she let her fingers roam in circles, feeling out her interior like a blind man in an unfamiliar house. This is what her delights knew, she told herself, and shivered at the thought. This was one of the last things they felt before being consumed by this beauty.

Estelle coughed as she withdrew her fingers. Cassandra’s servant stared at her, bewildered, as she caught her breath. “What are you…” she rasped out, starting to edge herself further down the bed, away from Cassandra. “What are you doing?”

What was she doing? The thought float through Cassandra’s mind, unanswered. She felt lighter than air, as though she were floating. She felt fevered. Did it matter what she felt? She was touching bliss, her bliss. Something felt hot inside her, deep and low inside her. Her heart felt ready to burst, rattling against the walls of her chest like a madman in his cell. She lifted the delight up, carrying it towards Estelle, her other hand lunging out to pull her servant back towards her. “Don’t shy away, my Estelle. These are my gift to you.”

Estelle’s arm twisted against her grip, but could not wrench itself free. “Perhaps,” Estelle said, lips trembling, “Perhaps we can share them at lunch. It’s much too early an hour to be eating sweets, my Lady.”

“No, it’s never a poor time to share the company of a friend.”

She brought the delight to Estelle’s mouth, pressing its face, expressionless and vacant, against the cushion of the woman’s lips. Estelle hesitated, but parted her mouth, her tongue as her mouth watered at the scent of cinnamon drifting up from the miniature figure to her nose. Cassandra eased the tiny being inside, allowing her fingers to brush against those lips, that tongue, setting it in its place as delicately as though she were handling a doll of the finest, thinnest porcelain. 

Those same fingers pressed Estelle’s lips closed again, leaving them in place there. Her heart fluttered at the woman’s every breath. “Does its taste,” Cassandra said, leaning towards her servant, “please you?”

Estelle offered the slightest nod, eliciting a manic grin from her mistress. Cassandra traced the line of her mouth, down and around the woman’s chin and jaw, where she followed back until she was touching her throat. Her thumb pressed upward against Estelle’s jaw, tipping her head back, waiting for the moment where she could see gravity and flesh take hold of the prisoner within her servant’s mouth. The sound nearly slipped through her lips, in fact, when she finally saw Estelle’s throat twitch, swelling ever so slightly as she swallowed her delight. If only she could see it closer, she whispered within her mind!

Her voice shook as she started to pluck another delight from the tin. “Please, my dear Estelle,” she said, wide-eyed as her hand hurried back to the woman’s mouth. “Please, have another.”

Before Estelle could reply, Cassandra took hold of her chin, pulling downward until the woman’s mouth opened once again. This time, she leaned in even closer, until she was nearly on top of Estelle, staring intently into her mouth, wide-eyed as she took in the view from the tip of her tongue to the pit of her throat. Cassandra’s heart was nearly racing up her own as she set the second delight upon Estelle’s tongue. She could feel the other woman shiver as the shrunken man as laid down upon the muscle.

Satisfied that the man would remain for the moment, Cassandra reached for her candle, her other hand still holding Estelle’s jaw in its grip. She brought the flickering flame close to her servant’s mouth; its light threw the contours of the open maw into sharp, monstrous relief. The delight winced at the brilliant light, while every surface around it gleamed as Estelle’s mouth continued to water. This, she decided, this was what she longed to see! Cassandra felt a sudden heat, a tightness, welling up deep within her. A bead of water spilled over her servant’s lips, catching the light for a moment as it dribbled along her chin. This was what Cassandra longed to see! That final, horrifying view, after which would be unbreachable darkness until the creature trapped within simply ceased to be, before it was simply meat to satisfy the needs of the flesh entombing it. 

Estelle pulled away, mouth snapping shut as she threw her head back, swallowing the meal laying within her mouth. Ragged coughs shook her, her hand pressed against her chest as she recovered, throat still convulsing even after the delight had slipped past all ability to feel its presence. 

Cassandra started, pulling the candle back towards herself. “Could you feel it? How well could you feel it when you swallowed?”

Estelle stared back at her, lips flapping soundlessly as she tried, once again, to rise up from the bed. Again, though, Cassandra pulled her back, maintaining her hand’s lock this time around her servant’s wrist. “Please, my Lady,” Estelle said, voice straining in fear. “Please, stop this. I have so much to do in the morning, and we both need our rest.”

“I’ll delay your morning responsibilities, it’s no matter to worry about it.”

“My Lady, please!”

Her trembling was all-consuming; every inch of her seemed to rattle with anticipation, excitement, and fear. This, Cassandra told herself, this was what she longed for. To know in every intimate detail the moment of being consumed, the moment where the being became nothing. The thoughts stirred by her dreams, the vision of Estelle looming over her enjoying tea and the taste of her former employer whirled about within her; each delight she pressed into Estelle’s mouth could easily be her. How badly she longed for it to be her! She plucked one more from the box, pressing it to Estelle’s lips, pushing her mouth apart even as Estelle struggled to hold them shut.

“Please, Estelle,” Cassandra said, barely able to hold onto the delight as her fingers pushed inside, resting alongside the tiny body. “Please, let me share this with you!”

She again tilted Estelle’s head back, feeling the delight slip from her grasp, the tongue beneath her finger shift as it eased this latest morsel back into her throat. Cassandra struggled to slip her fingers in deeper, to feel the flutter of the woman’s throat opening and closing, to know, to truly know, that final moment.

Instead, Estelle wrenched back, leaving Cassandra’s fingers soaked in her saliva. When Cassandra lunged out again, she threw the weight of her body into twisting away, Estelle’s hips striking the nightstand as she stumbled to her feet. Cassandra fell forward, sprawled out onto her belly, staring up through tangled red hair as Estelle backed away from the bed.

“What,” she said, still gasping for breath, coughing as her throat became empty again, “what was the meaning of this?”

Silence fell over Cassandra, who simply stared up at her servant. She made no effort, even, to pick herself up off the other woman’s bed.

“Answer me!”

“I wanted…” Cassandra finally sputtered, “I wanted…”

“Wanted what?” In a blur of movement, Estelle rushed forward and grabbed Cassandra by the arm, pulling her mistress to her feet. Was this also, Cassandra asked herself, staring up into her servant’s angry face, what she wanted from Estelle? “Wanted to know what it felt like?”

“I…”

“What else should I make of the way you were probing me? You lingered with that last delight until the last moment; you nearly had your fingers down my throat.” Estelle shivered, her hand pulling away from its grip on Cassandra’s arm. She backed again towards her bedroom window. “Is that what you dream about? Is that the stuff of your fantasies? Do you dream of being a delight yourself?” Estelle scowled at her, the candlelight flickering shadows across her face. “Answer me!”

Words failed Cassandra. Where was her mind, her voice? She screamed at herself, hands shaking as they resisted the urge to pull her hair from her scalp. “I… I have.” she said, finally forcing the words out of her mouth.

Estelle stood solid, like a pillar, like the stone figures the decorated museums and cathedrals; her eyes stared down at Cassandra, lips pursed tight until she slowly raised one hand to point to the bedroom door. “Get out,” she said quietly, firmly. “Get out of my room. Leave me now, and let me sleep.”

“Estelle,” said, her voice strained. She felt as though something were strangling her, crushing the words as she tried to speak them. “Estelle, please!”

“There is no ‘please’! No apologies!” Estelle’s shoulders tensed, her hand shaking as she held it at arm’s length away from her. “Get out of my room! We will never speak of this again! There will be no more picnics, no more dinner together, no more thoughts of sharing tea or your damned delights or anything of that sort! Get out and leave me in peace!”

Cassandra’s legs threatened to collapse out from under her as she stood. Nevertheless, they held, and she moved towards the door. Her eyes remained on Estelle’s, matching the gaze aimed at her. It was only when her hand groped behind her for the door and finally found the knob that she was able to put something between the two of them at last.

Everything from that point was a blur. Her arms, her hips, kept striking the walls as she hurried back along the hall, through the covered walk, into the main part of the house. What had she done? What had even possessed her to do this? The screaming within her mind only grew louder with her every step. The howling voice demanded she turn back, but also cursed her impulses, resonating within her with the frightening sharpness Estelle’s voice cut into her with. She pressed her hands against the wall, the flat of her palm pressing into the wood and plaster to drag herself through the central hallway and into the grand foyer, where she collapsed by the foot of the stairs.

What had she done, she asked herself, over and over. What had she done?

Whatever had taken hold of her, there was no going back. She’d torn a wound open between the two of them. The weeks to come would tell whether it could be sewn up again.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cassandra shoulders the consequences of her night with Estelle, just as she's preparing to welcome guests into her home. Her rival Violette, meanwhile, seems to have intentions with Estelle herself, ones which Cassandra will not tolerate...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story contains scenes featuring fantasy cannibalism and horror. Reader discretion is advised.

She was right about one thing, Cassandra realized in the weeks that followed: there was no going back from what she’d done the night she intruded upon Estelle.

The other woman hardly spoke a word to her since that night. The silence in the manor was as stifling as the humid summer air outside, and just as impossible to escape. Any attempt she made to speak to Estelle was met with a swift turn and a hasty, wordless retreat by the servant from whatever room the two both occupied. With each day that passed without a word, Cassandra felt a little bit of sense slip away from her.

Anymore, her evenings were spent locked in her library, her chair pulled up close to the fire as she plunged her way into novel after novel lined up upon the shelves. The finished volumes were accumulating in a pile to one side of her seat, and the upholstery was already starting to smell of her sweat from night after night of falling asleep in front of the slowly smoldering fireplace. She was slowly forgetting the feel of her bed, which she assured herself was for the better. Laying on it only made her dream her twisted fantasies of Estelle, made it easier to imagine laying on her servant’s tongue, staring ahead at her throat opening up before her. Sleeping in the chair at least left her too uncomfortable, too knotted up on herself to fall into a deep sleep.

Which was hardly a state to be in, most especially with her first appointments approaching. Cassandra leaned her head against one of the plaster walls in the library and groaned. It was Violette that would be coming in a matter of days. Why did it have to be her? She was in no state to receive her in her home, either physically or mentally. Why did that stuck-up, peacock of a woman have to insist on having her appointment first? It wasn’t as though she’d sell out of tins before Violette could have her chance to order. The bulk of her income came from that woman’s purse, so what point would there be to denying Violette a share of her product?

She ran a hand back through her hair and frowned as it tangled and knotted around itself. Nothing would be accomplished if she couldn’t at least bring herself into a physically decent state. Hopefully, she told herself, an improvement in her mental state would follow soon after.

 

Estelle was at the foot of the steps, dusting the foyer, when Cassandra finally came downstairs. Her servant looked up for a moment, watching as she descended, then turned back to her work without a word spoken.

“Estelle,” Cassandra said, pausing just before reaching the bottom of the staircase, “have you finished preparing the guest rooms for our visitors?”

The dark-haired woman turned around. Good, Cassandra thought to herself. At least she’ll look me in eye, even if we’re only speaking about professional matters. “I have, my Lady,” Estelle said, holding her feather-duster careful to keep the dirt clinging to it from sticking to her dress. “All three rooms have been cleaned, as has the living space in the servant’s quarters for their staff.”

Cassandra nodded, and descended the remainder of the stairs. “And the arboretum, as well?”

“And the arboretum, naturally. You’ve been holding your presentations there for the past several years,” Estelle frowned for a moment before her face could resume the stony, blank expression it had worn almost continuously in front of her for the past several weeks. “Why wouldn’t I see to it that it was ready for tomorrow?”

Tomorrow? Cassandra blinked and rubbed her eyes. Was the appointment already that soon? “What day even is it, Estelle? I feel like I am losing track of the time.”

“Of course.”

Estelle sighed and turned her back on Cassandra, starting down the hallway. She wrung her collected dust out into a waste bin she carried with her before dusting the woodwork beside her. “I do not have time for idle chatter, my Lady,” she said, her voice snapping against the walls and ceiling around her. “There is too much work to finish before tomorrow morning and there is only one of me to attend to all of it. Unless you wish to pick up a rag and polish the tables, or take the time to prepare the ingredients for tomorrow’s dinner, then go back to sulking in your library and leave me in peace!”

“I,” Cassandra sputtered, storming down the hall after Estelle. “I have not been sulking!”

Estelle turned on her heels, thrusting her duster out at Cassandra, who coughed at the cloud of particles that sprung forth into the air. “Then what would you call what you’ve been doing the past two weeks? Catching up on your reading?” The words were as pointed, as direct, as the jabs from the cleaning instrument in the woman’s hand.

Cassandra stopped dead, her lips trembling. “I simply... I thought it rude to intrude upon you further. To bring up what happened that night.”

“So you decided to simply ignore that it happened, and ignore me?” Estelle’s eyebrows lifted as she opened her eyes wide, her body leaning forward at the waist as though to listen carefully for Cassandra’s response. “Did you think that if you simply ignored it, that I might eventually forget that you barged into my room and thrust your fingers into my mouth to satisfy your fantasies?”

“You asked me,” Cassandra said, struggling to hold herself upright, to keep her back stiff and straight. “You asked me never to bother you with what I did, ever again. You asked me to never mention it.”

“You could have at least apologized!” Estelle’s voice was crisp, too brittle, cracking against the walls and Cassandra’s ears. “In two weeks, you haven’t even apologized for what you did!”

Cassandra opened her mouth to speak, but Estelle shook her head, turning her back on the Lady of the house. “Not now. There’s too much to do, and I don’t… I don’t want to dwell on this when there is so much I still need to look after. Just go and make yourself useful, with whatever it is you do. Go and prepare your show for your peers, and I will see to it that they have a clean room to sleep in and a warm meal for the nights they spend here.”

Estelle hurried down the hall, shoes clicking against the hardwood as she left Cassandra in her wake. Cassandra raised her hand to reach out after her, as though her arm could cross the length of the main hallway and prevent her servant from disappearing around the corner. “Estelle, wait!”

The other woman paused briefly at the end of the hall, waiting. Cassandra sputtered, searching for words. “I’m sorry” seemed to simple, too small, for what she’d done, for how she’d violated Estelle’s space, her body. What words were there for playing out a fantasy like that? Her lips simply moved soundlessly, the unspoken words met with a scowl from Estelle, who disappeared around a corner at the hall’s end.

What was there to do? Cassandra wrung her hands as she shuffled back up the hallway to the front of the house. Violette and her entourage of staff, as well as two other ladies— Lady Irene Milford and Lady Eveline Starling, who themselves figured prominently themselves in Ostinum society— would be at her doorstep in mere days. All of this cold air between herself and Estelle would need to be covered, well-hidden, before anyone arrived. She was already on the lips of the wealthy enough as it was, Cassandra reminded herself, and for all of the wrong reasons. A woman of her stature should hardly be associating with her maid. Once the gossips started to dig into that, there was no telling how much of her life would be dragged into the sunlight.

She sighed and shook her head, staring out the windows that stood to either side of the front door, resting a hand against the sill. What was there to be done? Menus to plan so that Estelle could begin preparations for the next few evenings’ meals. No, no, she said and shook her head. There had to be more to attend to that that. Her pitch needed to be practiced; it was a given that her customers would keep ordering from her. They were good and thoroughly hooked on her wares. It was more a matter of how much they could be manipulated into buying, how absolutely necessary a steady supply of her delights were to their well-being and happiness. She needed to browse the wine cellar to find the best vintages to serve her guests.

There was plenty to do, she assured herself. There was plenty to do that didn’t involve dwelling on Estelle.

~ 

The last few days came and went. At last, the first weekend of appointments arrived, and with it, Cassandra’s first guests began trundling up the driveway in steam-powered carriages. The contraptions were the latest, newest thing to come from the island nation’s factories. While they were noisy enough to be heard from at least a mile down the road, they were the prized possession of anyone wealthy enough to afford them and the object of the envy of those who could not. Cassandra owned one, one of her first grand purchases after her business started to grow, though she certainly did not own such a loud and cumbersome machine out of jealousy, she assured herself. It was simply a convenience for herself and Estelle. Managing horses to pull a carriage would simply be too much work on top of everything else that needed to be tended to in their home.

The first rumble of noise across the grounds sent her scurrying down the steps towards the front door. Estelle, of course, was already waiting, and opened the door at just the right moment to prevent Cassandra from walking face-first into it. With a deep breath of the crisp, morning air, Cassandra trotted out onto the porch and waited for the cars to reach the brick roundabout in front of her home.

The finest vehicles in the procession rattled after curving around the circumference of the roundabout  until the passenger door faced the porch. Behind them, the line of larger, boxier automobiles rumbled along to make their way to the servant's entrance at the back of the house. Estelle would be sent back later to direct the personal staffs of Cassandra's guests into their proper places and quarters, but for the time being she would remain at her Lady's side and aid her guests in entering the house. 

Cassandra stood straight as the drivers exited their cars, opening the door and offering their hand in assisting their passengers out. Lady Starling was first to step out onto the drive. Eveline's family hailed from the pastures and hillsides north of the capital, her broad, barrel-like frame ample reminder that in some distant century, the Starlings plowed tough soil and-- if the Lady's stories were to be believed-- wrestled wild dogs with their bare hands until they were broken in as sheep dogs. Whether it was true or not, the Starlings brute determination made them phenomenally successful landowners and traders of the raw materials harvested from the soil and beasts tended on that land. That accumulated wealth funded the lady's grand journey's throughout the world that now occupied much of Eveline's time.

Lady Starling's shoes clapped against the steps up to the porch, her soft, round face all smiles as she curtsied to Cassandra. "Lady Selby," she said, and clapped her hands together as she stood back up. "I'm so ever pleased to visit you again."

"And I am most pleased to see you," Cassandra said in her softest, most professional of tones. Eveline wasn't unpleasant company to keep, but her exuberance and delight at every imaginable thing was quick to wear thin on her nerves. "Please, make yourself at home."

"I shall! Oh, I must tell you of my trip last month to..."

"Lady Starling, would you please be so kind as to move along, so that the rest of us can enter the house, as well?"

Cassandra stepped aside to let Eveline pass her, catching view of the tall, wiry height of Irene Milford ascending the steps to the porch. Brown hair that lost more of its color every time Cassandra saw the woman framed a sour, lined face. Which was more color than the rest of her possessed. Every inch of the woman's clothing, including gloves and the sheer veil that hung from her hat, were as deep a black as the midnight sky. Lady Milford became a widow not long after Cassandra had come of age, and the elder woman showed no sign over the years of ever ending her period of mourning. The only change over time had been that her sadness gradually gave way to a festering resentment of youth that rendered every word she spoke as bitter and biting as the tonics used in medicines.

"There's hardly any hurry, Lady Milford," Cassandra said, holding more firmly to her forced smile.

"Lady Starling might not mind tromping around under the beating sun, but the rest of us would rather not spend our time roasting."

Eveline looked back from the doorway and frowned at her fellow guest. "Oh, Irene! Don't be such a sourpuss. A little sunshine would do the lot of us some good!"

"Oh, do shut up."

"Ladies," Cassandra said, the word sounding more pointed than she meant it to be as she laid a hand against Irene's back. "If we could move inside, perhaps? I'll ask my maid, Estelle, to prepare some drinks and sandwiches for us all?"

This met with words of approval from the both of them. Estelle held the door as she showed the Ladies Starling and Milford into the house. Cassandra was alone, then, chest collapsing with a sigh of relief as she turned away from the entry to her home.

Which left her with her third guest: Violette Wilemere. The Lady's shoes clicked lightly against the brick roundabout, her pink lips curled in a smile on a face as perfectly made up as the most life-like of dolls gazed upward at Cassandra. Curls of black hair bounced at her every step, her royal blue dress tailored perfectly to every curve and line of her body. She was neither too modest nor showed too much; every bachelor in Ostinum fell over themselves to win her attention, despite the fact that she was both several years Cassandra's senior, and married.

"My dear Lady Selby," she said, her words sweet as honey stirred into hot tea. "You're growing up quite finely, my friend."

Cassandra winced, but was quick to shake off her chill and offer a curtsy to the far wealthier, more socially prominent woman approaching her. "And you look as beautiful as always, Lady Wilemere."

"Cassandra, Cassandra, we've known each other for how many years?" Violette laughed as she walked up onto the porch, touching a gloved hand to Cassandra's cheek. "My parents invited your family to my coming out party. I can still remember the darling little dress they had you in for the occasion. White and pink, with a pink purse you'd stuffed one of your dolls into."

Cassandra forced a laugh through her lips, back stiffening as Violette fingers brushed against her cheek. "Your memory is better than mine, then. I can hardly remember the day."

"Perhaps. Nonetheless, we've known each other for so many years, it seems so stiff to call each other by surname."

"That may be the case, but I have invited you all here on a matter of business." Cassandra stepped back, trying to put what space she could between the two of them without being read as either rude, or intimidated. "It would be impolite for me to speak so familiarly with my customers."

"Customers!" Violette held a hand over her mouth and gave a brief, sharp laugh. She paused and shook her head before smiling back at Cassandra. "I suppose it's just as darling as that outfit you wore all those years ago that you think this little trade of yours is legitimate business. We should be frank with ourselves. We are women of means who are indulging in a bit of pleasure. There is hardly much more that is more intimate, and more familiar, than that."

Violette turned and stepped through the door into Cassandra's home, leaving her host to stew by herself on the porch. The nerve of her! Cassandra's fists dropped to her sides, squeezed tight as she stamped a foot once against the deck planks. Though, she thought, such behavior did little to improve her standing with that hated woman. At least Violette was out of sight and unaware of her aborted tantrum. Cassandra sighed and smoothed out her skirts, straightening her stance as she followed into the house after her guests. This was her domain, whatever Violette's ledgers might say, and she was not about to let Violette lord about the halls of her own home.

~ 

With some effort, Cassandra shepherded the three women into the arboretum. The room had been one of her father's favorite spaces. When it rained, and it often rained in southern Angliea, the space allowed him to enjoy the flowers and trees of his garden without venturing out into the cold and damp. Sunlight warmed the room through the glass tiles in the roof; with the weather as fair as it was, a few were propped open to allow in the breeze and prevent the atmosphere inside growing too heavy.

A short path wandered through the stately greenhouse until the trees parted to either side of the four of them. A pair of bistro tables were set out with chairs, plush cushions on each seat to allow a comfortable resting spot to each of Cassandra's guests.

"...I must have some of my servants speak to your girl, Estelle,"  Eveline said as she walked with Cassandra to one of the tables. "We were audience to one of the finest cooks in Ul-Shams, and if Estelle prepared any of the dishes that we were served that night, you would just melt at the heat and fragrance of it all! They were most exquisite, I just know you would love them."

Cassandra smiled and drew a chair out for the other woman. "I will have to try, sometime. Perhaps I can come over one evening?"

"You must!" Eveline was giddy, as though there were a hundred thoughts trying to spill out of her mouth all at once. "Oh, if our trip hadn't been a gift from Lord Tracey, I would have loved to have brought you along with us."

Cassandra showed Lady Milford and Violette to their seats, careful to keep her attention on Lady Starling's conversation with her. Estelle was already in the room, setting out tea cups and saucers, resting a platter with kettle and dish of whole-leaf tea on a stand set on the opposite side of the space where the tables were placed. "I have always wanted to travel out of the country," Cassandra said and smiled at Eveline; her sentiment was a genuine one, at least. "My affairs keep me so busy at home, though. It's hardly realistic of me to simply fly off to some distant land."

"I hardly see what you find so charming about Ul-Shams," Irene said, the grim tone of her voice dropping like a weight between Cassandra and Eveline. "From all I've heard, it's a dirty, noisy, squalid place, worse than Ostinum."

"Nonesense!" Eveline pouted and waved a dismissive hand at Irene, leaning aside so as not to bump into Estelle as she poured her tea. "Just a bunch of ignorant nonsense. Kasabla is a crowded little city, I will admit, but there's a liveliness to it that I find far preferably to our gloomy, gray capital!"

"Don't call me ignorant, Eveline." Lady Milford turned her nose up at her more well-traveled peer. "You're hardly more than a silly, little girl. Every foreign place is lively and exotic to you."

Lady Starling sputtered in search of words for a moment, until the peal of Violette tapping a teaspoon against her cup silenced the other two guests. "Whatever your opinion of the people there, Irene," she said as her gaze drifted towards Cassandra instead of the two arguing women, "There is a great deal in the Shamsi's country that posses unfathomable value."

"Most certainly! Oh, Violette, do remind me later; I found the most gorgeous necklace while I was there." Eveline looked around the still-glowering Irene. "I hope the servants remembered that I asked them to pack it. It's even more lovely than the pendant I acquired while touring the Far North."

"Please," Irene said, leaning forward to press her fingertips against her brow. "Not another story of your 'adventures'."

"Lady Starling, perhaps you can share you trip to the Norsland with us all after dinner?" As much as Eveline's company was preferable to the dower Irene or insufferable Violette, there was business to be done, and Cassandra was not about to cede the afternoon to the Lady Starling. "I believe my servant is ready to present a sampling of this year's delights for your enjoyment."

As though on cue-- of course, Cassandra thought with a smile, it was on cue-- Estelle stepped out from behind her with a small, silver tray balanced on her hand. As she approached each of Cassandra's guests, she placed a small dish down before them. A pair of dark haired, freckled bodies laid on each one, tied and bound motionless as they were offered to each woman. Hunger slowly crept into their expressions, the look of primal anticipation that made Cassandra smile every time she saw it. As much as their presence grated on her, it pleased her to bring them each to heel with so simple an offering. She was right, she reminded herself, thinking of her conversation weeks before with Estelle in the work house. They were little more than dogs in fancy dress, salivating as they waited to be offered a treat from her hand.

"This year," Cassandra said, watching as each of them looked over their delights, "I wished to present you with something intense, something fiery. I've allowed some of my delights more sunlight than normal, and accented the warmth of their skin with dark chocolate and cinnamon."

"A bold choice," Irene said, studying the delight she held in her fingers. She was careful to hold the tiny man by the thread wrapped around him to avoid staining her fingertips with chocolate melting under her own heat. 

Cassandra grinned. "Does that offend, Lady Milford?"

"Not hardly." She eased the tiny figure into her mouth, lips brushing ever so lightly against its shrunken body, allowing only the slightest hint of glaze to rub off against her own skin. She closed her eyes, careful not to make a show of sampling the flavor of her delight until after she swallowed. Her eyes met Cassandra's, her lips curled in the slightest hint of a smile. "You were never one to be subtle, Lady Selby."

Cassandra soaked in the pleased look on Irene's face as she looked to the woman sitting beside her. Eveline made little effort to conceal her enjoyment. Her cheek stretched on one side of her face, then the other, as she rolled the tiny being around on the surface of her tongue. She almost coughed after swallowing, and turned a pointed stare at Irene. "Not subtle? Is your palette that dull?"

"Not nearly as much as your stories," Irene said, her voice a murmur as she reached for her tea.

"Oh, shut up, you old maid." Eveline rolled her eyes and turned back to Cassandra. "You've composed such a marvelous blend of sweetness and earthiness; a taste that tickles the tongue, then washes over it with fire. Oh, I must know what you used! It's surely more than the cinnamon that I'm tasting, but I cannot put my finger on exactly what it might be."

"Estelle," Cassandra said, looking beside herself at her servant. The young girl was already gathering used dishes on her serving tray, preparing to return the kettle and tea to the kitchen. "Do you remember what spices you used for this batch of delights?"

"The cinnamon, as you mentioned, my Lady." Estelle's voice was quiet and subdued, her eyes never rising to meet Cassandra. She paused after loading her tray, turning her attention to Eveline, who watched the two of them with an imploring expression. "As well as a blend of peppers I acquired from the dockside markets in Ostinum. These were carefully proportioned with cocoa, sugar, and the cinnamon to produce the flavor you are enjoying."

Evenline clapped, startling Irene as she prepared to sample her second delight. "What a wonder you are, then! I can't imagine what Lady Selby would do without you."

Something chill ran through Cassandra's back. She looked out the corner of her eyes at Estelle, who merely offered a slight bow to Lady Starling. "You flatter me, Lady Starling. The work is as much my Lady's as it is my own."

"I suppose, I suppose, yes." Eveline took a moment to sample the other delight on her plate; something lit up in her eyes as she played with the creature on her tongue, her attention returning to Estelle once she swallowed. "You're from Ul-Shams, aren't you? Or, at least perhaps, your family is? I remember having a dessert while I was on my trip there that was seasoned much as Lady Selby's delights are today."

Estelle became quiet, motionless. She'd started to turn to pick up her serving tray, but froze as soon as the words came out of Eveline's mouth. "I did live there," she said, her voice little louder than a whisper. "For a time, yes."

"You've certainly moved up in the world, then," Irene said as she finished her delight, washing the spice of it down with tea.

Eveline's head turned sharply, the woman frowning at her peer. "Oh, don't start that garbage again!"

Their argument faded into the background, though; Cassandra's thoughts were elsewhere. They were on Estelle, who swept out of the room without another word, without giving her the chance to say something about the conversation that just unfolded. It would have to come later, elsewhere. Right in front of her customers was hardly the place to drag their frayed relationship to light, anyway.

Then, there was Violette.

The third of her guests was quiet the whole the presentation, sitting alone at her table as she watched the others play out their little drama. She was perfectly composed and poised, easing a little of her delight into her mouth, flashes of her tongue peeking from between her lips as it curled and fit itself around the shrunken being in her grasp.

It was interesting to watch her, Cassandra thought to herself. Usually, her customers regarded her delights as merely exotic confectioneries. That they were alive, that they were ingesting a living creature was an afterthought that merely made the things a taboo that they could whisper about to their friends and feel as though they were part of something secret.

Violette, however, seemed to take pleasure in the fact that what she was consuming was alive, was likely conscious, as it entered her mouth and felt her tongue capturing it. Her eyes seemed to look down, to study the look of the delight as it slipped past her lips. Her other hand laid on her belly, as though she could feel the creatures imprisoned inside as it settled into its final resting place.

Cassandra crossed the room, taking a place beside Violette as the woman licked a taste of cinnamon from her lips. "Are you enjoying yourself, Lady Wilemere?"

Violette swallowed, and brushed aside a lock of dark brown hair as she looked up at her host. "Quite so, my dear Cassandra. Thank you."

Something again shivered in Cassandra. It took everything to wait a moment before stepping away from Violette and turn her attention to all of her guests. "Well, if we're all finished, shall we have a walk about the gardens? I would love to hear your thoughts on this years flavors as we get a bit of fresh air."

~ 

The manor's kitchen was in the servant's quarters, connected to the house by a covered walkway to prevent the periodic Angliean rains from soaking dinner while it was brought into the dining room. It prevented the house from growing too stuffy, too hot; the pungency of cut onions and simmering stew broth was contained to this space and kept from filtering through the entirety of the house.

With her guests reclining after their afternoon walk, making themselves comfortable and likely chattering about her presentation earlier. Their attention was elsewhere, and it was what she needed to slip away from the group and move to the kitchen, where Estelle was at work preparing their dinner banquet.

She could already smell the roast ham being prepared, the thick flavor of stew and the crisp watery scent of vegetables being chopped under a knife's edge. She paused, though, at the door, hesitating before taking hold of the doorknob. Her every attempt to speak to her servant since the night in Estelle's bedroom had ended in failure. Estelle simply turned her back and moved to some other task, some other business, leaving Cassandra in her wake. Her present task would keep her from slipping away from Cassandra again, but that offered no guarantee that Estelle would actually speak to her.

The need to talk gnawed at her, though. Steeling herself, she twisted the doorknob and stepped inside.

Estelle's back was to the door, adding potatoes, celery and carrots into the stewpot as they were chopped apart. It surprised her just how clear the air was; Cassandra understood now why Estelle insisted upon the installation of a gas stove and ovens, despite her Lady's fears of an explosion. "How many gaslights have you heard exploding in the past many years, my Lady?" Estelle had asked, and proceeded off with paperwork affirming Cassandra's credit into Ostinum when the aristocrat failed to produce more than sputtered sounds of protest.

The stone floor was warm, heated by the oven cooking the main course of their dinner. Her footsteps were loud on the hard surface, and finally prompted Estelle's attention. She slowly set down her knife, hands resting on the counter as Cassandra stopped in the middle of the floor. "My Lady," Estelle said, her voice quiet and almost lost among the crackle of the burning stove top and the bubbling stew pot. "Is something the matter?"

Cassandra breathed deep, thinking of pleasant things, thinking of dinners she's enjoyed with Estelle as her company, her only company, of evenings strolled through the garden with her servant beside her. "I think we are both aware of what is the matter between us, Estelle."

"And I think I've made it perfectly clear that I do not wish to discuss it."

"What is it that you want?" Cassandra's voice cracked; it felt as thought something had reached into her chest and was squeezing around her heart. "You yell at me and tell me not to speak about what I've done, but then you express outrage when I don't offer an apology for my actions. So what is it you want, Estelle? What is it you want from me?!"

"I don't know what I wanted, Cassandra!" Estelle leaned over the counter, pressing her hands against the wooden surface. "I didn't even know what I wanted to feel about you! You confessed your love for me and I was ready, open, to accepting that love, and then because you were a coward, because you couldn't let go of all of that..." She spun on her heels, thrusting her arm out towards the manor as she turned to face Cassandra. "Instead of accepting my offer to love me as your equal, as your friend, as your partner, you instead... you chose to sneak into my room like a thief and force something upon me that I did not want! Do not make this about what I was thinking, what I was feeling! The problem is your choice, your fear, not my reaction to your behavior!"

"I just want to fix what I've done, Estelle!" Cassandra looked down at her hands, held out towards Estelle; they were shaking right before her eyes. "I just want to have the life we had together, the way things were."

"But they're not going to be, my Lady." Estelle crossed the room, standing before Cassandra, taking her mistress's wrists in her hands and pushing them back at the other woman. "They will never be, not anymore. What could have been between us cannot be any longer, so we must now become different people, and build something new."

She let go, turning back from Cassandra to return to her work, the stew pot rolling to a hard boil. "Now, go, my Lady. Your guests will begin to wonder where you've gone off to. It's not becoming of a Lady to be seen dawdling about in her servant's quarters."

Cassandra nodded and stepped backward, moving towards the door. Halfway there, she paused, something sticking in her mind. "Estelle," she said, rolling words around in her head to phrase what she wanted to say. "Something is bothering me about Violette."

"Something invariably bothers you about Lady Wilemere, no matter the day, or time of year."

"I know that," Cassandra said, and frowned. "But there is something that feels predatory. Like she smells blood."

Estelle shook her head. "I think you are reading too much into things. Lady Wilemere is predatory by her nature; such is the way of the business she looks after. But I do not think that is a sign, necessarily, that she is up to anything in particular on this visit."

"I will see, then." Cassandra shook her head and continued towards the door. She paused again at the exit, her hand resting on the doorknob as she looked back at Estelle. "And Estelle?"

Her servant did not bother to look up, focusing instead of chopping onions. "Yes, my Lady?"

Cassandra frowned, but shook it off and stood up straight. "I will make things right again."

Estelle shook her head, and focused on keeping her fingers away from the sharpened blade. "We shall see, my Lady."

~ 

The benefit of having company over, Estelle told herself as she stepped out into the garden, was that there were plenty of others around the servants' quarters to take on much of the house work. Thus, it was one of the few opportunities where she had much time to enjoy herself.

She breathed deep at the cooling summer air, hands in the pockets of her sweater, her feet bare and exposed to the grass and cobblestone pathways that meandered among the flowers and shrubbery. Sometimes, late at night, she would slip out of her bed when she had trouble sleeping and walk through the garden until her mind and heart were enough at ease to drift back into slumber again. It had been a practice of hers for some years, one that Cassandra never seemed to notice. Her mistress largely slept sound in her bedroom, which finally left Estelle to some peace until the sun rose once again and conferred new responsibilities, new tasks to complete, upon her.

Given what transpired in her room a few weeks before, the occasions she spent walking the garden became more frequent, to the point that she began to worry that the impact on her sleep would start to seem obvious even to someone as wrapped up on themselves as Cassandra Selby.

The sound of another pair of footsteps, however, startled Estelle out of her thoughts. She stepped back, turning about in the direction of the oncoming footsteps, and fought back a shout of surprise at the sight of Violette Wilemere standing across from her on the cobblestones. "I'm terribly sorry, my dear," Violette said, drawing a hand up to her lips in embarrassment. "I don't mean to startle you. I hadn't expected anyone else to be out here so late at night."

Calm came back over Estelle, her back muscles easing and relaxing as she took a step away from the bushes and smoothed out her nightgown. "I walk through the garden at times when I have trouble sleeping. The flowers, their colors and fragrances; they help put my mind at ease when I am upset, or concerned."

Violette raised an eyebrow. "What would bother you though? You and Lady Selby have made quite a little life for yourselves out here in the country. She's the talk of nearly every drawing room, her name whispered from one lady to another." She smiled and took another step towards Estelle, resting a hand gently on the other woman's shoulder. "And as long as she remains successful in her little venture, neither of you have anything to fear."

Estelle bit her lip. How much should she say? It would be rude, disrespectful, for her to speak of the intimate details of her and Cassandra's relationship to someone from outside their lives; especially someone Cassandra despised as much as Violette. The brown-haired, elegant financial baroness was no saint, and the last thing Cassandra would want her to do is air their dirty laundry to someone who might use it for leverage against her mistress.

Then again, the last thing she wanted Cassandra to do to her was force-feed her delight after delight.

"We've encountered a bit of difficulty. Between the two of us," Estelle said, her gaze wandering from Violette, looking out towards the flowers, the trees, the gazebo that stood deeper towards the center of the gardens.

"Oh?" Violette tapped a finger against her lips, and moved alongside Estelle. "In your working relationship, I take it?"

"In our relationship," Estelle said, adding no more, or no less.

Violette seemed to blush, staring with curiosity at Estelle, who would not meet the aristocrat's gaze. Her attention remained at some point in the distance past Violette, on nothing in particular, but also not on her companion this night. "Oh my," Violette said, her voice hushed. "Oh my. That's quite improper of Cassandra, isn't it?"

How it was, Estelle thought to herself. One woman wished to love the other; the other both lusted for the one, and longed for oblivion within her body. Both wielded arcane, forbidden powers to doom creatures that were once human to serve as sweet foods for women of Cassandra and Violette's class. There were things that they concealed from one another, and things that were concealed and hidden from them. "This is, though," she said as she finally turned to look at Violette, "a house of improper things."

Violette smiled, and offered her hand to Estelle. "That being said, we are each proper women. Let's allow the night to ease our minds. I remember Lady Selby mentioning she grew lilies in her garden. Would you be kind enough to show them to me, Estelle?"

Estelle smiled, and took the hand offered to her. "As you wish, my Lady."

~ 

Eveline had kept her late in her library; it was only the tolling of the grandfather clock in the hallway that reminded them both of the hour. Once the chimes subsided, Cassandra became quite aware of her exhaustion and suggested that the two of them part for the evening and continue their discussion of her peer's journey to Norsland after breakfast.

She yawned as she moved down the hallway, covering her mouth. Moonlight streamed in through the window ahead, painting the floor with pale white and blue that reached toward the balcony over the foyer and the way to her bedroom. The window ran the height of the wall, and afforded her a grand vantage point with which the view the grounds behind the manor.

Smoke rose from the chimneys of the servants' house, thinner than it had earlier. The fires in the kitchen were long-since put out, her guests' staffs gradually dampening the fires that burned in the small, cast-iron stoves in some of their rooms. The lights on the far end of them manor were still on; surely, it was just Lady Starling just reaching her room and undressing for the night before going off to sleep.

There were figures moving about in the garden, though. She blinked, and stepped closer to the window. She thought it was simply an illusion, or just birds nesting in the shrubbery. No, she told herself after rubbing her eyes. No, those were people.

Two people.

The more she stared, the more the distant, shadowed figures came into focus. They were two women. One had a hand gesturing towards the flowers, drawing one upward with a gentle pull on its bloom, one that drew the flower closer without injuring its stem. The other leaned down, curls of dark brown cascading around her head, before rising again to nod at her companion.

They stood close, Cassandra thought to herself. Very close together.

And the more she looked, the more her blood started to boil.

Brown, curly hair. The one figure stepped around her companion, her shapely figure evident even from a distance, even in her sleeping gown. The other, with long, straight hair as black as the evening sky above them, nodding and offering to show her guest another flower. And how close they stood together! There was hardly a space between them for more than a moment or two.

No, Cassandra hissed between tightly clenched teeth. She would not.

And yet, she knew who both of them were. And she knew Estelle never walked with her like that, anymore. 

Cassandra's fingernails dug into her palms as her hands clenched, every muscle within her body vibrating like a cello's strings. Despite the blue of the moonlight, she felt like everything she looked at was turning red. Particularly the woman with curling hair, walking so closely, so intimately with Estelle. Her Estelle.

Something cold cut through her heart, and she threw the curtain shut over the window and turned her back on it, her footsteps heavy as she retreated to her bedroom. This would not do, she told herself. This would not to at all.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cassandra plots her plan to foil Violette's efforts to take Estelle from her. Everything, however, does not go as planned...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story contains elements of fantasy cannibalism. Reader discretion is advised.

A poor night's sleep made no difference. Cassandra still had guests, and she could not simply dwell under her blankets until she was roused out of her bed by the sun climbing higher in the sky or Estelle pulling the bedding away from over her body.

Estelle; she thought of the woman, her servant, the object of her desires, as she descended the steps. What happened last night? what exactly was it she saw taking place in her garden, under the moonlight? All she was certain was that Estelle and Violette were in the gardens together, talking and admiring the flowers. She did not know if one had invited the other, or if they encountered each other by chance. She did not know, further, where they may have gone to once she drew the curtain shut. Did they return to their own rooms, or one or the other's quarters? Her sleep was filled with so many nightmares of the two of them enjoying one another's company that she wasn't sure which could be true, and which a product of her own jealousy.

She was not jealous, she said as she reached the bottom of the stairs. She was not jealous in the slightest. Estelle would hardly think of leaving her for her worst rival; she wouldn't dare do something that would wound her so deep. Or would she? There was tenderness in her servants voice, but also frustration and anger, Cassandra thought. She was a bubbling cauldron of emotions, stewing and roiling about. What was at the surface at any given time the she approached, anymore, was entirely up to chance.

Then there was Violette. What if she was the one to invite Estelle out, and not the other way around? Violette had never shown interest in the black-haired servant girl before, but perhaps now, she saw something of the rift between the two of them. Was it that plain? How evident was it that she and Estelle had been fighting. Were they the topic of gossip among her guests' servants? Was that how the news may have made its way to her rival? Cassandra groaned and stepped into the dining room, choosing to think of the hot food being laid out for her and the others.

Neither Estelle nor Violette were there, which made matters all the more unusual. Cassandra frowned at the empty seat and the lack of a sight of a tightly drawn bun of dark hair. "Where is Lady Wilemere?" she asked, offering the question to the two other women seated at the table.

Both Eveline and Irene looked at her, puzzled expressions on their faces. "In bed still, I would assume," Irene said at last, her fingers wrapping around the curve of her juice glass.

"Did either of you see her last night?" Cassandra's gaze darted back and forth between the two of them. The sinews of her throat showed under her skin, while her teeth pressed down into her lower lip, threatening to draw blood. "Did either of you see her about?"

"What's this all about?" Eveline looked at her, eyes open wide as she withdrew her hand from the plate of sliced apples she had reached towards for a bite. "Lady Selby, I was with you last night. And then I went downstairs to bed when we realized the hour."

"I know that!" Cassandra breathed deep, closing her eyes for a moment as she tried to imagine how she should compose herself, how she should stand in front of these two without loosing all sense. "I know that, Lady Starling. But did you or Lady Milford see her before you went to bed last night?"

Irene shook her head and motioned for Cassandra to take her seat at the head of the dining room table. "For god's sake, we were all in bed, Lady Selby. Come and sit down and have breakfast before you wind yourself up like a pocket watch."

Cassandra signed and made her way down the table. The meal did smell enticing and calming. She resigned herself to getting to the bottom of what happened last night after she'd eaten something. Her guests' staff acknowledged her as she took her seat and began filling her plate with hot food. "I at least hope the lot of you slept well, last night," she said, her words nearly lost in her half-woken state. 

"I suppose mine was," Eveline said, looking down the table towards Cassandra. "Although my servants have been chattering more than they normally would while working about my own home."

The clatter of Cassandra's fork hitting the table was deafening. "Chattering about what, now?" she said, her voice brittle. There was something going on in her home!

Eveline's voice was quieter, more subdued. "I'm not quite sure what all of the fuss was about. Though I think one of them mentioned in passing as they were making the bed back up as I dressed, that there was a message slipped under your servant Estelle's door."

"A note? What sort of a note?"

"I haven't the slightest idea, Lady Selby."

"That greedy bitch!" Cassandra slammed her hands down on the table. One of the servants nearly fell over as she shoved her chair back and jumped to her feet. "That is quite enough of her sneakiness. I'm going to have words with her!"

"Ms. Selby!" Eveline had shrunk back into her chair, face pale as Cassandra stormed away from the table. "Ms. Selby, it's surely nothing! Come back to the table, please!"

Cassandra spun on her heels, her house shoes squeaking against the hardwood. "Surely nothing?! There is an affair going on within my house and I am not going to stand for the likes of this!"

Irene was quickly out of her chair, stepping in front of Cassandra, the younger woman nearly colliding with her as their paths crossed. Cassandra backpedaled, teeth grit as she stared up at Lady Milford with the intensity of a cornered animal. "You are making something out of nothing, Lady Selby!" Her voice bore all the force of a schoolteacher lecturing an unruly class, shocking them into silence and obedience. "Be calm and sit back down, and have breakfast with the lot of us like a civilized woman!"

"Please," Cassandra said, spitting the words at the elder woman. "Get out of my way."

"Be seated," Irene said, neither her body nor her voice backing down from her host. "And attend to Lady Starling and I as your guests. Whatever you may think, young lady, it is no business of yours to sail away from the table in a huff to pick a fight with one of your guests-- your guests, I remind you!-- over an affair that you very likely imagined by arranging unrelated details in a way that fits your paranoid delusions." She thrust a pointed finger at the head of the table. "Go, and sit back down."

Cassandra thought she was boiling. That was the sound in her head: it was the hiss and bubble of her fluids boiling over, her body running so hot with anger that it was cooking her from the inside out. She was sure if she continued to stare down Irene, or to push past her and chase down Violette, steam would pour out of her ears. Maybe she would simply explode, much like an engine unable to vent itself, or a blocked pipe under a street. Perhaps if she did, she would take Violette into the grave with her.

She sighed, and let the heat dissipate. This wouldn't do. She would deal with Violette later. She had just the way to deal with Violette, later.

"Very well," she said, the words choking in her throat as she pushed them out. She stepped back, one foot at a time, from Irene, and returned to her seat. Her toast, sausage and eggs were cooling already, the jam she'd spread on the toast soaking deeply into the bread as she retook her seat. She sighed, and prodded her meal with her fork, displeased with its lukewarm state. At least, she told herself, it was something to take her mind off of Violette.

Irene took a deep breath and returned to her seat, looking pointedly towards Eveline. "Of all the times for you to clam up, Lady Starling! Surely, you have something to start a conversation with."

"I... surely, of course." Eveline recomposed herself, color slowly returning to her face. "Lady Selby, you were saying last night that you'll be having one of the Princesses as a guest later this season?"

 ~

"Estelle!"

Cassandra found her servant some time after breakfast, on the covered walk between the manor and servant's quarters. Her voice carried in the early afternoon air, the sky above them as clear it was weeks before when they shared lunch together on the hills beyond the house. She was far more tense, though, far more angry than she was those weeks before when the smiled and spoke to one another over sandwiches.

Estelle stopped halfway down the walk, turning back towards the manor to face Cassandra. "Is something the matter?" she asked, her voice calm and steady, which only infuriated Cassandra further. How dare she be so reserved and at-ease, given what was going about inside her Lady's home!

"You should know very well what's the matter with me," Cassandra said. She glanced quickly around the gardens, watching for any ears listening too closely, or eyes watching too carefully, to their conversation. "Last night. You were in the gardens with Violette."

Estelle's expression was unmoved. "I was. We encountered one another by chance."

"And now this morning," Cassandra continued, her hands wringing at one another. "And now this morning, you were left a letter, stuffed under your bedroom door."

Estelle frowned and started to turn away. "My mail is none of your business, my Lady."

"You are a member of my household!" Cassandra thrust her arm towards Estelle, groping for the young woman's shoulder. "And as long as you are, every letter of it is my business!"

The snap of Estelle's hand contacting her own, of Cassandra's arm being flung back at her from Estelle's blow, echoed up and down the walk. "Do not presume to think that you have any right to place your hands on me," Estelle said, her lips tight as she spun back at Cassandra, shoes clapping against the neatly-laid stone pavement. "Do not think for a moment you have any right to place your hands anywhere near my person, after what you've done to me."

"You will not leave me for... for that woman!" Cassandra swallowed down the growling the rumbled in her throat, hoping she did so before Estelle could hear it. "You are my servant, Estelle."

"And I am a free woman. It is entirely within my rights to end our employment, if I so choose."

She turned her back to Cassandra, hands folded in front of herself with her arms at her sides as she walked back towards the servants' quarters. "Do not force me into a position where I must make that choice, my Lady. I do not wish to leave here, but I will not be forced to stay here against my will."

Cassandra's mind, however, was already elsewhere as Estelle walked away. The young servant girl was the same as she always was. Nothing had changed with her, which meant the problem was instead with Violette's influence over matters. She was the one who is trying to capture Estelle's attention; her servant would never shift in her loyalties to her Lady willingly. Cassandra stormed back towards the house, her lips curled upward in a devilish smile.

She was going to make Violette suffer dearly for trying to take her Estelle away.

~ 

The spiraling stairs led downward, deep below the ground floor of the house. The further underground they went, the more ancient the passage became. Polished stone and newly laid wood gave way to rougher-hewn, larger blocks that formed the wall, the floors, and the ceiling. This, two, eventually gave way to solid stone that was framed by long-untouched timbers preserved by some chemical brew whose scent still lingered in the old wood.

Cassandra's way was lit by a chain of lights set into the wall, a new torch appearing near the edge of the light thrown by the one previous. She would reach up and ignite each new torch, throwing warm, flickering light further down the stairway. The stairs were cool and damp, and smelt of mildew and earth. After so many years, at least, she was used to the heady smell.

A thick, wooden door barred the way past the bottom of the stairs; a crest, cut out of wood and painted with fading colors, hung under the arch that formed the portal's top. A stag leaping below a bent roof-line, with a six-pointed star in each of the top corners. The Selby family seal: from what she managed to decipher so far of the texts within, the room had been in her family's possession since Angliea's most ancient days, in the ages before kings and queens, before cities and industry and even agriculture. As ancient as the hills themselves, the texts claimed. The very thought seemed preposterous, but made her shiver with its mystery, nonetheless.

She produced the heavy iron key from under her sleeve and opened the door. Shelves of great, thick, leather-bound tomes of parchments and cupboards packed with containers of strange-colored liquids filled the walls of the small laboratory. A stand was set up on one of the work tables, designed to hold open any of the shelved volumes for reference while their owner worked on the surface beside it.

She pulled the old book from its place. Her hands knew instinctually the page she needed to turn to. Her mind was already preparing a list of what she needed. Were it not for the incantation written within, she would have no need for the book itself at all, and could reproduce the magic potion solely from memory.

Magic, she thought to herself, and laughed. It wasn't magic; magic was silly, superstitious stuff. It was science, really, no more or less so than the chemistry being studied fervently by the great minds of Angliea and elsewhere. What was contained in these so-called 'magic books' were little more than science not comprehensible by the human mind, not in the time it was written, nor in her in own. Inevitably, though, someone was sure to uncover the mystery behind the herbal brew she prepared to mix, and the words she would speak out loud, and understand what caused them to have such enormous power over the size and shape of the human body.

Why did her family possess this knowledge? That was something her studies of these old books had yet to reveal to her. Neither of her parents ever spoke of these books, this space. Whether they were aware of it all or not would, perhaps, forever remain a mystery. Part of her, the part the delighted in her novels and had since childhood, spun tales of the two of them, paging through these books, playing in wonderment with spell after spell, writing in some now-lost journal about the effects and behavior of each. It seemed like the sort of thing they would do, late at night, after their young daughter was carefully laid to sleep. 

No, she told herself as she stirred the small, copper pot full of bubbling liquid, the far more modern chemical flame underneath crackling as it warmed the whirling mixture. That was purely a flight of fancy. Her parents surely had no part in this strange frontier between known and unknown science. They would have told her, or left her some message for when she came of age. They would have left something, surely, to tell her what part they had in the secrets held within this room.

A sharp, fast clattering echoed in her ears. She looked down, and saw her hands shaking, striking the edge of the cauldron with the ladle she used to stir it. With a sigh, she lifted the utensil out of the brew, careful not to spill a drop of the potion held inside.

The sound of a knock at the door startled her again as she filled several small bottles with the potion. Who could be down here? She bristled, trying to remember if she pulled the hidden door at the top of the stairway shut on her way down here, and cursed at her own carelessness. She cursed and quickly set the bottles down, slamming her book shut before hurrying to the laboratory door.

There were two girls outside, each dressed in servant's attire. One, a short brunette whose clothes looked a little too large on her, shifted from side-to-side, her gaze looking a little around Cassandra's presence in the doorway. "Lady Selby," she said, locking her fingers together as she held her hands steady in front of her waist. "Our mistress, Lady Wilemere, asked us to send word to you that lunch will be served within the hour."

It took every effort for Cassandra not to snarl. Violette! Did she send these two off looking, hoping they might stumble across her secret study? Was she not content to take her Estelle away? The banker had long lusted after what remained of the Selby estate, and it did not surprise her that she might wish just as much to posses the secret behind her delights. "That's very kind of you," she said, hiding the strain in her voice behind a thick layer of false cheer. "I assure Lady Wilemere that I will be joining everyone shortly, after I complete a few pieces of my work here."

What could she do? She couldn't simply let the two go, where they might report the location on the hidden room to their mistress. A single, horrible thought crept into her head. Perhaps, she told herself, this situation could be turned to her advantage. If Violette thought she had the right to take her Estelle away, perhaps she would take a few of her rival's servants, in turn. "In fact," she said, tapping a fingertip against her lips, smiling at the two, bewildered girls. "In fact, I would appreciate a little of your help. I imagine Lady Wilemere has trained you both to be quite capable."

The taller of the two, a blond with angular features and a boyish figure, nodded. "Of course. Our Lady has prepared us for any work we might encounter."

I am quite sure, Cassandra thought to herself as she waved for the two to follow her into the room, she has not prepared the two of you for this. "Then I hope she won't mind your absence for a time. Come in and have a seat; there are a few chairs around my work table, if you wish to pull those back and make yourselves comfortable."

The two followed inside, Cassandra asking them to wait for a moment before hurrying up the stairs. The bookselves that concealed the doorway into the cellar laboratory had been out of place, she realized as she reached the top. A quick glance ensured that no one else was watching, before she sealed the entrance tight and raced back down the spiraling steps to where her subjects waited, patiently, their eyes taking in the packed shelves, noses twitching at the faint aroma rising out of the cauldron still bubbling on the table.

"My apologies. I wouldn't want anyone else to burst in on us," Cassandra said on her return, breath racing as she crossed the room to her work table. Violette's servants watched her, followed her, their faces expectant and confused at their sudden enlistment. "I'm preparing a bit of a special beverage to serve with lunch, a special, sparkling refreshment I've been tinkering with."

"Would it not be easier, Lady Selby," the brunette said, "to work on this drink in the kitchen? It must be very difficult to bring water down here."

The blonde turned to stare at her companion, eyebrows raised, an unspoken thought of how she could question the work of someone of a higher station than themselves clear to the aristocrat in the way the girl's lips hung open. Cassandra laughed and shook her head, smiling first at the blonde, and then at the girl who had addressed her. "It's nothing to worry about. We are all simply participants in a scientific experiment here. I have water piped down into this room. It's quite remarkable, having running water so deep underground. It's a very impressive and very helpful feat of engineering, if I must say so myself."

She was rambling, and her hands were shaking. It had been years since she'd shrunk a full-sized human being. The potion was necessary to keep the delights from gradually growing larger over their lifespan, but after the first few generations, it was no longer necessary to shrink street vagrants and orphans to replenish her stock: their own breeding ensured that their population remained stable. She poured out two small, clay cups of potion, the liquid fizzing and bubbling in each, before carrying both drinks to her unknowing captives. "Now, I'd like to know from the both of you what you think of the flavor. Take your time and enjoy the entire drink. I'm very curious to know the full profile of the drink from an outsider's perspective. It's hard to really appreciate the flavor yourself when you've worked with it for so long."

The two girls stared at the cups for some time; the brunette wrinkled her nose at the bubbles fizzing up from the drink, until her peer dug her elbow into her side. Both offered a brief smile to Cassandra, then raised the cups to their lips, their eyes closed as they drank.

Moments passed. Too slowly, Cassandra thought, time was moving too slowly. When would it take effect? She racked her brain, riffling through memories, trying to remember how long it took the poison to take hold over the victim's body. It was only she heard the crack of the ceramic cup shattering on the stone floor that she gasped in surprise and delight and watched as the two servant girls began to shrink down before her eyes.

The two cried out, clutching at their first their throats, and then their clothes, which grew looser-fitting with every second. Soon, the two disappeared into the rumpled heaps of black dresses, the only evidence that they still existed at all the hints of movement visible under the piles of fabric. Cassandra tossed their dresses aside, plucking the two screaming girls off the floor as she stood back up.

Cassandra carried the two back to the worktable, setting them down on the counter while she gathered a spool of thread from one of the cabinets behind her. "I must apologize for my deception, my dear girls," she said, frowning when she found the two struggling to stand up on the counter after turning back to the table. She pushed the two back down with a finger, and slid the brunette towards herself, pinning her arms to her sides as she wound a length of string around her. "You simply happened to be in the wrong place, at the wrong time. I've no ill feelings towards the two of you. Your employer, on the other hand, is a different story."

The blonde shouted something at Cassandra as she continued to bind up her fellow servant. What she said, though, was lost on Cassandra's ears. At their size, their voices no longer held enough power to register clearly to a full-grown human being. She finished tying up the brunette and pushed her aside as she reached for the blonde; the girl kicked her feet against the table top, scrambling backward to try and escape Cassandra's reach. Cassandra was faster, though, and closed her hand around the frightened girl.

"You must be wondering, why me? Why did this happen to me?" Cassandra's lips curled into a frown, her fingers working faster now to tie up her second, struggling victim. Fingertips pushed down against the blonde's back, the heat of the tiny creature flowing up through her digits. "I've asked myself the same thing, again and again as the years have gone by: why me? Why did my parents disappear, and leave me under the thumb of your employer? Why am I a mockery to my peers? Why do they only respect me for the awful sweets that I make for them? What did I do to deserve being suspended over the precipice of personal ruin, month after month, year after year?"

The blonde screamed as she tightened the thread, the cord digging some into the girl's skin. "Why am I burdened," Cassandra said, gritting her teeth together between phrases, "with my obsessions for my maid?"

She laid both of them onto her back, turning once more to the cabinets, to an icebox, retrieving more items from their places: a dish, and a jar of fruit jam. She set both down hard on the table, and laid the two girls across the width of the plate. "There's no answer to those questions," she said, warming a spoonful of jam over the flame that had heated the cauldron. She slowly poured the warmed gel over the girls' bodies, listening with satisfaction at their gasps as it covered their skin. "There are never any answers. Life is cruel and offers no reasons for the twists and turns it lays before us, for what it does within us."

She looked down at them one last time, her hand resting on the cover to the dish. "Be glad that, at least, you will only have to suffer that cruelty a little while longer."

The girls' cries were stifled as she covered the dish's lid over them. That was cared for, she told herself, and lifted the dish in her hands. Now, all that was needed was to arrange a private meeting with Violette.

~ 

Estelle was in the hallway with a basket of towels when she heard a cough from behind her; the sound of someone clearing their throat as a means of attracting attention. Without setting the basket down, she looked back and found Violette behind her. The banker's lips were turned up in a slight smile, hands folded at her waist, resting on the band of fabric that wrapped around the waistline of her dress. "Estelle," she said, her voice quiet, pleasant, sweet. "I was hoping I might happen upon you."

The young servant adjusted her hold on the basket, the sleeves of her dress pulled by the muscle of the arms beneath them as they sought the most comfortable way to balance the load. "Good afternoon to you, Lady Wilemere." She offered Violette a brief look, before turning her attention back down the hallway, towards the door heading out the back of the house. "Though, what reason would you have for seeking me out?"

Violette laughed, though soundlessly; the hand over her mouth muffled her amusement. "You know perfectly well, why. I made sure to deliver my message to you, personally, this morning."

Estelle nodded and turned back towards Violette. Her basket was placed on the floor beside her, set down in one fluid arc as she swiveled, knelt, and rose to her feet again. "I did receive your message, in fact. And I think it is rather bold of you to approach me about it in an open space like this." One eyebrow lifted up onto her forehead, her eyes narrowing as she matched Violette's gaze. "You don't worry at all that my Lady might come upon you in the midst of this discussion?"

"You make it sounds as though I'm engaged in an affair."

"As far as my Lady might be concerned," said Estelle, "you may as well be."

"Lady Selby, I'm afraid, is a woman caught up in her delusions and fantasies." Violette chuckled soundlessly again, and shook her head. She took a step closer to Estelle, the corners of her mouth turning up further when Estelle stood, unflinching, before her. "Which is why," she continued, "I hope you will entertain the offer I have presented you with. You deserve an employer who will respect you."

Estelle swept back down and gathered up her basket, glancing back over her shoulder as she turned her back on Violette. "You're not wrong, Lady Wilemere. Now, if you will excuse me, I have the laundry to attend to." 

"Of course." Violette nodded. "You know how to contact me, should you wish to discuss matters further."

"Yes, Lady Wilemere. Good day to you." 

Estelle's shoes clicked against the floorboards as she walked away. Violette smiled, pleased with herself, and stepped around her feet to walk back in the other direction when she startled at the site of Cassandra standing at the other end of the hall. The Lady of the House's hair was drawn up in a bun, colored in bright shades of red and orange from the afternoon sun shining through the windows behind her. Its brilliance was a sharp contrast to the hard shadows drawn on her face, lips tight in a forced smile as Cassandra stared across the open hall at her.

"Lady Wilemere," Cassandra said, and took a single step forward.

The smile on Violette's face fell. Her hands tightened their grip around themselves. "You seem stressed, Lady Selby. Perhaps you should enjoy the company of Lady Starling for a bit? Her stories seem to lighten your mood, after all."

"My mood," Cassandra said, "is perfectly fine. If I look stressed, it must only be in the way you imagine things." Violette's host's fingers drummed against a surface. It was then that Lady Wilemere looked down, and saw the small tin the young woman held in her hands. "As a matter of fact," continued Cassandra, "I would like to share your own company for a little while, over tea and delights. Would you care to join me in my library?"

Violette's throat twitched, her mouth trembling for a moment before turning, slowly, renewing the smile she'd worn before noticing Cassandra. "Of course, Lady Selby. I would most happy to join you."

~ 

The table was set in front of a window in the library that stood opposite the fireplace and chair that Cassandra often spent her evenings at. A small fire burned in the hearth as she opened the door for Violette, warming a kettle there. Two places were set, with cream and sugar in porcelain dishes between them, one pair of tongs resting with the sugar bowl, while the other sat beside an open space that, Violette realized, was clearly meant for the delights Cassandra carried into the room with her.

"You prepared all of this yourself?" Violette said, ushered by Cassandra to her seat. "How very thoughtful of you."

"I prefer a personal touch, as much as possible, when sitting with my clients one-on-one." Cassandra stepped away from the table, taking the silver teapot sitting there with her to the kettle. "A delight is an intimate treat, Lady Wilemere. You, of all of my clients, surely appreciate that."

"Of course I do. What you've created is something artful, Lady Selby. A scandalous confection for some, but your delights are more than that." Violette watched as Cassandra returned with the steeping teapot, letting it rest on its stand as she walked around the table to the tin full of delights. The lid was opened, exposing the four miniature figures resting inside, coated in the darkest, richest chocolate. The mere sight made her mouth water, her tongue gliding for a second over her lips, moistening them. "An admiration of the human form, a love song to the physical, the sensual, unmatched since the days of ancient Helia."

"You flatter me." Cassandra's head was bowed as she picked up a pair of tongs, her hand hovering over the two men and two women packaged inside. "May I offer you the two ladies? I've not much of a taste for them as delights go, but I don't believe you've expressed any preference in the past."

Violette's expression tightened, her lips thinning and eyes narrowing; nonetheless, she maintained a smile and nodded her ascent to Cassandra. The tongs closed around one woman, and then the other, laying each on the small plate set in front of Cassandra's guest. Once her own delights were taken, she returned to the other side of the table, pouring a cupful of tea for each of them. "I grow a small collection of tea plants in the gardens," Cassandra said before taking her seat. "Again, I prefer a personal touch for occasions like this."

Her guest looked down at the delights laid out on her dish: a blonde and brunette, one longer than the other. The chocolate covering them glistened. Violette could feel the heat rising off of them, filling the air in front of her with the aroma of cocoa. She took the pitcher of cream and poured a brief splash of the cool liquid into her cup. "You prepared the delights fresh as well," she said, fingers curling through the handle.

"I had the opportunity to prepare two that were freshly ripened," Cassandra said with a smile, licking a drop of warm tea discretely from her lips. Her cup settled quietly back onto its saucer, her fingers moving to take up one of the boys bound up on her plate. "It's why I hoped you wouldn't mind me taking the boys. I'd prepared the girls especially for you."

"That is quite kind of you." Violette set her teacup down, and picked up the brunette from her plate. "What I was saying, though; I see more in these bound-up creatures than I think most of your clientele do. I see the overt expression of pleasure. An open declaration in our power as creatures of refinement, of the ordering and mastery of our primal impulses."

Cassandra held her delight in her mouth, feeling the chocolate melting away from its chest, between its legs, spilling out over her tastebuds, entwined with the salt of sweat and the heat of living flesh. She swallowed the mix of it all slowly, pausing to let the flavor linger in her mouth before washing her palette clean with tea. "That's quite a philosophical take on it all. I'm not used to you saying so much. I don't think you've ever said so much to me, so casually."

Violette slowly eased the the brunette past her lips, pressing them tight around the miniature body, contouring their cushioning flesh around the bound, motionless figure. The tip of her tongue pressed against the girl's spine, dragging her inward. Her upper lip raised over the brunette's breasts, then dropped down hard onto her belly and chest. Her finger pressed against the girl's feet, guiding her, until the last of her delight was sealed inside, finger laid on her lips as she savored the body her tongue now wrapped around.

Cassandra's fingers glided over the rim of her teacup, her eyes watching Violette's mouth, her cheeks, the bob of her jaw as she toyed with her delight. "To be honest, I don't often think much about my delights. More often than not, they are simply a means to an end, a method for survival, for acquiring what I need to pay for what sustains me. I still little gain in overthinking my work."

Violette swallowed, and dabbed the hint of chocolate left on her lips with a napkin. "I would feel the same way, I suppose," she answered once her throat was clear, "If I found myself in your position. Being the one to consume, as opposed to the artisan involved in the craft itself, affords a certain luxury of being able to contemplate the things they enjoy."

"It does," Cassandra said, laying her fingers against the second delight on her plate. She hesitated, hoping Violette didn't notice her watching, waiting for her to pick up the other of the girls she'd served her peer. "To be honest, I do envy that luxury."

"Perhaps you could sell the process," Violette said. Her fingers plucked the blonde from her plate, holding the miniature being by the knees to keep the chocolate from staining her fingertips. "Hand off the labor of caring for your delights to someone else, and simply live off the profits. There's no need to manage the whole thing yourself."

Cassandra tensed in her seat, withdrawing her fingers from her delight, reaching instead again for her tea. "I couldn't," she said, and sipped at the still warm liquid in her cup. "There would be no one I would trust with the process beside Estelle and I. I couldn't imagine stepping away from complete control over the delights."

"It's okay to let go of control, my dear Cassandra." Violette licked her lips, easing the blonde's head past her lips. She paused for a moment, the tiny girl's chest half in and half out of her mouth, the tip of her tongue reaching out to curl around the delight's back. Violette's eyes closed, her head tipping back, letting her delight slip inside of her mouth. Her tongue caught the soles of the delight's feet and gave them a final push inside, Violette shivering as she sealed in her treat.

In the blink of an eye, Violette's throat swelled, pulling her prisoner downward, to join the brunette already trapped inside of her belly. She sighed and took her tea, smiling with eyes still closed. "You hardly let yourself taste that one," Cassandra said, feigning a pout.

"It wasn't so much about the taste that time, my darling," Violette said, both hands resting their fingertips on her cup as she looked across the table at Cassandra. "It was the thrill of it."

Cassandra's cup clattered against its saucer. She let go, closing her fingers tight against her palm. "Is that what this is all about to you?" She felt as though she were vibrating in place, like a cello string, low and dark, sound resonating deep within her, stirring up angry words. "About a thrill?"

Violette's eyes opened with a blink, wide and staring across the table at Cassandra. "I'm afraid I don't quite follow you. What on Earth are you talking about?"

"If you think I did not see you speaking in the hall, in my gardens, with Estelle..." Cassandra breathed in, trying to push her airway open again, fighting against the tension in her squeezing her throat shut. "With my Estelle. Is that why you are pursuing her, Violette? For the thrill of a love affair with a woman of a different class than yourself?"

Violette sat up, back straight and pressed against her chair. "I am pursuing no such thing. It would be indecent. Your servant has merely discussed her displeasure in her employment with you, and we were discussing a potential change in the state of affairs. It was nothing more than that."

"You were flirting with her in my gardens," Cassandra said, unable to hold back the venom in her voice now. "You had the audacity to try to take her from me, right her in my own home!"

"You are imagining things. I was taking nothing." Violette sneered at her, brow crinkling against her nose, her lips bowing upward in a frown. "Perhaps if you paid more attention to your servant, to her desires and wishes, she wouldn't be so interested in abandoning you."

A malevolent grin curled across Cassandra's face. "Perhaps if you paid more attention to yours," she said, voice low as she plucked her last delight from her dish, raising it to her mouth, "you wouldn't swallowed up two of them without even noticing."

The sound of chair legs scraping across the floor rang sharp across the room. Violette's face was pale white, colorless as the dishes set between the two of them on the table. Cassandra smiled up at her, hair once more catching the light from the windows and looking as though it were made of fire. "You must have noticed, surely," Cassandra said, her voice now light and lilting. "You could see their little faces, staring up at you. And while they couldn't speak, you must have seen the horror on their faces, the dread of knowing their beloved employer, the woman they admired and respected and served without question or deviation, was going to consume them without a second thought."

"You wouldn't," Violette shook as she rose from her seat, leaning on the furniture to keep her legs from collapsing out from under her. "You wouldn't have; you can't have... this is murder, Cassandra," She spat the words out, hand as white as her face as she squeezed the iron frame of the back of her chair. "You're little more than a common, petty murderer."

Cassandra shook her head. "There is nothing common about what I do. What makes you suddenly so righteous, for that matter? We are all dirty people, and we do terrible things. Who will you go to? What makes you think the authorities, the courts, will believe you when you tell them that Miss Cassandra Selby shrank two of your servants, drizzled them in chocolate, and served them to you; servants that you then ate, not realizing their identities?"

"I'll have you exposed," Violette said, and threw her chair forward, rattling the dishes on the table as her seat struck its edge. "I'll expose you and everything you do here. I'll have you stripped naked in the public square, with no one left to defend you."

"Then you, and every lady in Angliea, will be brought down with me. The whole of the aristocracy, Violette. We are all privy to and participants in this horror I've made." Cassandra laughed, resting her elbows on the table, cheek against one palm as she held her last delight between the fingers of her other hand. "There are secrets in all of our houses."

Violette swept around, racing from the room, her shoes clapping against the wood boards beneath her. "What will you do," Cassandra called after her from the table, "try to vomit them up? I doubt you'll be able to, but you can certainly try!"

She laughed, then slipped her delight into her mouth, squeezing its form with her tongue, savoring her victory as much as she did its flavor.

~ 

The house was silent of the affair between her and Violette, and remained so until her guests departed that evening. Cassandra stood on her porch, at the top of the steps leading up from the drive, satisfaction still clear on her face as the caravan of motorcars receded into the distance on the long drive back toward Ostinum. Dinner had been shared with idle chatter from all by Violette, who sat stone-faced across the table from Cassandra. Neither of her peers remarked at all on Violette's silence, as was polite. No one knew, and no one wanted to know, what had happened between the Lady of the House and her guest over afternoon tea. At least, not for the moment.

Her wealth for the coming months was assured, and Violette as decisively put in her place. For once, Cassandra told her, she was the one holding all of the strings. The sensation was unfamiliar, and she decided she would revel in it as long as she could.

She jumped, though, at the sound of the door closing behind her. Cassandra spun about, clutching the column beside her for balance, and sighed in relief when it was only Estelle standing in the doorway. "Good lord," she said, breathing out, "you startled me for a moment there."

It took a second glance to notice the way her servant was dressed: not in the black dress that made up her uniform, but a simple white blouse and brown pants. Her hair, save for a few wayward locks, were tucked into  a cloth cap. A heavy suitcase, worn around the corners, the leather cracking in places, sat by the boots she wore. "You're going out?" Cassandra said, gaze rising back up to the other woman's eyes. "Estelle, it's nearly nightfall."

"I'm not running an errand," Estelle said. Her voice was cold, sharp. Cassandra pressed against the pillar beside her as Estelle took a step forward. "I'm leaving."

"Leaving?" Breath escaped Cassandra's lungs, the organs collapsing inside of her chest. Her mouth sputtered uselessly for a moment before she managed to find words again. "Why are you... why would you?"

Estelle closed the space between them in a single stride, grabbing the neckline of Cassandra's dress. Her fingers wrapped under and up into the material until her hand closed into a fist, lifting Cassandra onto her toes. "Do you have any idea what you've done? Because while you and your peers were hesitant to talk about it, word spread quick among me and mine."

"Estelle, please," Cassandra said; her heart raced, legs stretching to try to stand flat on the porch again. "It wasn't anything, it wasn't..."

"They were human beings, Cassandra! Not even orphans dumped in gutters and factories to work or die, but young women with happy, hopeful lives!" Estelle pressed in upon her; Cassandra was sure Estelle could feel her shaking. "They were people and they weren't of any consequence to you at all! They were just something you could use for some petty revenge!"

"She was going to take you from me!" Tears welled in Cassandra's eyes, warm as they spilled down onto her cheeks. "Violette was plotting to take you."

"And that justifies what you did?" Estelle let go of Cassandra and stepped back, wiping her hands against her pants. Cassandra's legs failed her, dropping her to the porch, kneeling against the planks in a heap.

"I was ready to trust you, willing to believe you could be a bigger person. I was willing to stay if you could act like an adult. But you've proven yourself worse than I thought." Estelle shook her head, and retrieved the suitcase she left sitting by the front door. Cassandra lifted a shaking arm, reaching out to grab Estelle's wrist as she walked past, only to have her hand slapped away.

"You're little more than a child, a monstrous, overgrown child," Estelle said, descending the first step to the driveway. "I tolerated it for years out of pity. You were desperate, and I was willing to help you, willing to look past the horror of what we were doing, to see to your happiness. I convinced myself that we gave those orphans purpose, gave them a reason to exist, more than they would ever have."

"But it was never enough for you. Nothing is ever enough for you, and I have had enough with fruitlessly laboring for your happiness." Estelle descended the rest of the stairs, her boots striking each landing loud until they clicked against the paved stones that lead to the drive. "I will not live under a roof with someone who treats people like playthings and tools, who shows no respect for what they do and who they do those things to."

Cassandra tried to will herself back to her feet, only to find that her legs lacked the strength to move. She needed to, had to get up! She had to follow Estelle, and keep her from slipping away. "Don't go," she said, her voice cracking. "Don't leave me, Estelle. Where would you even go?"

Estelle stopped halfway down the path, and looked back. "I don't know. Away from here. Farewell, Lady Selby."

She looked ahead, and walked to the driveway, and down towards the road that lead towards Ostinum. Cassandra called out her name, clutching the pillar beside her, crying out for Estelle to turn back as tears rolled down her face. Estelle, though, heard nothing. She grew smaller and smaller, receding into the distance, until she was down the road and lost among the colors of the setting sun. 

She had to do something, Cassandra told herself, head laying against the cool wood of the porch columns. She had to do something; she always did something, always thought of a way. There was a way to get Estelle back, to make all of this right again.

For the first time, though, she was unsure of what that something was.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cassandra hunkers down in despair in her home, alone, until an unexpected friend shows her a possible way back to Estelle...

Rain poured down on the Angliean countryside. The world outside was dark and grey and without another figure in sight for miles. It seemed to reflect Cassandra's mood, she thought as she stared out the window in her study, arms wrapped around herself. Her own light, her sunshine, her Estelle, was gone and there was nothing left to warm the moments that filled her day. Now they were empty, and the halls and rooms of the Selby manor seemed to echo more loudly than they once did.

She paced around the room, her gaze making sure to avoid the pile of letters on the desk. Her thoughts, however, kept wandering back to them: letters demanding repayment of debts and property taxes owed. Borrowed money kept her estate a float, money loaned from banks, which were owned entirely by Violette Wilemere. It seemed, she thought, that her nemesis had struck back in the most crippling way possible: by pulling her credit out from under her.

To be sure, there was money. The payments from delights sent out to buyers gave her enough to take care of any essential needs for a time. So long as she held onto enough of it, and that she continued to sell to enough interested buyers for the remainder of the season, she would have enough to feed herself and obtain firewood through the coming winter.

For what it would matter, she thought with a frown. By then, Violette would surely take possession of her estate, and she would spend the holidays wilting in debtor's prison. She shivered at the thought, and rubbed her arms through her sleeves as she pushed the vision out of mind.

Priorities! She needed to have priorities. She needed to put the house in order. There were many more showings still to come. She had yet to welcome the Crown Princess into her home, after all, and the house was slowly falling into a deplorable state with her as it's only remaining caretaker. The delights needed to be provided for, as well; that was just as high a priority as the house.

No, she shook her head. She needed to start more personally than that. It'd been three weeks since Estelle's departure, and she hadn't bathed in the intervening time. She made do with splashing water over her face and washing her hands and intimates with a hot washcloth whenever she managed to pull herself out of bed. She needed to bathe, to soap and wash herself in a tub of warm water and let the lingering steam flush the clutter of thoughts from her head. That needed to happen before she did anything further.

She sighed and rested her forehead against a wall. Warm tears were starting to flow down onto her cheeks. Her every breath was short and shallow. She needed Estelle, she told herself. She couldn't manage, couldn't even fathom, handling her life on her own. She was lost, adrift; her heart ached and felt empty. She was not only helpless, she realized, walking to and from the rooms of her home; she was lonely, and that was what was worse. The chores she could manage, could do on her own, albeit more slowly than if she had help with them. The endless silence, however, was inescabable and devestating.

She stepped back, filling her lungs completely with breath, and closed her eyes. Bath first; she decided. She would bathe, and wash the sadness and dirt from her body. Then she would sit with her books, and try to determine how long she could fend off Violette's demands for repayment. There was a way out of this, she assured herself. There was always an answer. She simply needed to find it.

~ 

She'd only just finished with her bath-- it took some time to stoke the furnace below the house hot enough to warm the water for it-- when she heard a loud, insistant knocking beating at her front door. She called down the steps, wrapped in bathtowels, demanding that her guest give her a moment to make herself descent before greeting them. This worked for a moment, though the knocking started back up again minutes later. Cassandra snarled and hurried to dress herself as quickly as she could manage.

Her hair bounced about her head in tangled locks as she rushed down the grand staircase, nearly tripping as she reached the ground floor. She threw open the front door, gasping for breath, and blinked at the sight of Eveline Starling on her porch looking just as hurried as she did, herself.

"Lady Starling?" She blinked. It took a moment for her to compose herself enough to stand up straight and take her hand and the weight of her body off of the door frame. "I wasn't expecting you to visit..."

"That's because I wasn't expecting to have to come see you so suddenly," Eveline said, and motioned for Cassandra to step back and let her into the house. "If I might," she added, pausing just long enough for Cassandra to nod her assent to her. "I'm sorry, I've just been in a terrible rush to reach you out here before anything happened. I was worried I might get here too late."

"Too late?" Cassandra stared at Eveline, the elder woman ignoring the coat rack for the moment as she hurried into the house, knocking the door shut behind her. "Too late for what? What's happening?"

"Oh, for goodness sake Cassy, are you that secluded here?" Eveline sighed and shook her head as she took in the dusty state of the hallway around her. "I guess the house answered that question for me. You're in danger, darling, very serious danger. Lady Wilemere's been speaking out about you. About your delights."

Cassandra froze; in an instant, the blood in her veins seemed to run as cold as a stream in winter. "To whom?" she said, a tremble in her voice. "To whom, and what has she said?"

"I've only been hearing pieces of the details, here and there," Eveline said, and gestured for Cassandra to follow her up the stairs. "It's become the talk of Ostinum. Apparently, she's gone and filed papers accusing you of witchcraft with the royal courts. A judge has been calling in every lady in the city, demanding to know how aware they were of your activities."

The reached the top of the stairs, and followed a turn in the hallway to Cassandra's library. Cassandra drifted towards a seat, falling into her plush chair by the fireplace without realizing at first that she'd sat down. Eveline quickly shut the door and hurried across the room, kneeling down to place firewood into the hearth. "They haven't called you yet," Cassandra said as she stared at the shelves across the room, "I'm assuming."

"They haven't, though it's only a matter of time. I certainly can't postpone meeting the judge once I'm given a summons." Eveline shook her head, then struck a match, nodding in satisfaction as the flame burned upward without flickering or wavering. "I'll do my best to slow their pursuit of evidence as much as possible, without engaging in anything illegal myself. It's a fine line to walk, though."

"They'll still come for me, eventually." The rest of the room felt distant, even though Eveline was kneeling right in front of her, holding a match to the kindling until it caught. The whole rest of the world seemed to be drifting away from her, leaving her floating in a shadow. "They'll come for me, and it will be worse than debtors' prison. They won't bother with prison. I'll be executed for practicing a dark art."

"You had a Crown Princess as a potential client," Eveline noted, stepping back from the fireplace as it glowed with warm reds and oranges. "Her Majesty would want to avoid a scandal."

"Her Majesty will simply bury any evidence that would connect her daughter to me." Cassandra shook her head, then rest it against her open palms. Warm, wet tears welled in the lines in her hands, trickling backward to her wrists. "What am I going to do? I'd rather have been left unawares, and been taken away in a panic to the judge, and then to the executioner's stand! Now, I'll be stewing, worrying, and I've already made myself sick with how I've lost Estelle..."

Eveline blinked, and turned towards her. "Lost her? What's happened with the two of you? I heard rumors that she'd packed up, but I wasn't about to believe anything until I heard from you to be sure."

Cassandra shook her head, wiping the tears from her eyes and cheeks with the heels of her palms. "Nothing, it's nothing." She sat up straight, breathing the fire-warmed air radiating from the fireplace deep into her lungs. "It's nothing of any consequence. She ended our agreement with one another. She no longer wished to work in my employ. She packed up the evening that you, Violette, and Lady Milford left, several weeks ago. I've been alone here since then."

"That's why the house is in such sorry shape..." Eveline tutted, looking to the room around her before looking back to Cassandra. She sighed and found a seat on the opposite side of the fireplace, leaning forward as she folded her hands in her lap. "You were in love with her," she said, voice quiet, "weren't you?"

Cassandra's eyes opened wide. "I wouldn't... I haven't..."

"Oh, for God's sake, woman! Do you think I'm some sort of idiot?" Eveline's lips quickly curled into a frown, eyes narrowing above her rounded cheeks. "You're not the first woman to fall in love with someone of her own sex, nor are you the first to pine for someone of a class outside your own. I had quite a lengthy romance with a young scholar at Oxford for many, many years. We're still quite close, to be perfectly honest, even after I married. I think she's gotten together with someone closer to home. Last I heard, they were off to Autawah to practice law or run for the colonial Parliament there or something of that sort."

"People would talk..." Cassandra said, voice nearly lost to her own ears over the crackle of the fire.

"People are already talking about Lady Selby, the witch! Lady Selby, the monster who eats human flesh and feeds it to others! And you've been sitting here, concerned that they'd scold you for wanting to share your bed with another woman!"

"A foreign woman," Cassandra added.

"To hell with all of them!" 

Eveline's shoes clapped against the floorboards, startling Cassandra into sitting bolt upright. The older, broader woman pointed a finger at her, scowling down at the redhead cowering in her seat. "Damn the lot of them. There's plenty of women like Irene that sneer at anything that doesn't suit the way they think things should be! You can live to please the bunch of them, and be miserable, or pursue what it is that brings you your happiness."

Cassandra shook her head, though, looking away from Eveline and into the seams of the chair's cushions. "I can want to pursue my happiness all I want, but it won't matter. I've not the slightest idea where Estelle has gone. Second, even if I knew where she was now, I'll be executed as soon as the courts have enough evidence gathered to convict me. It's only a matter of time; maybe weeks, or not even that, if they're pursuing this as eagerly as you say they are."

"They are." Eveline crossed the gap between the two of them, kneeling in front of Cassandra. Her hand, thick, muscular and calloused, laid gently against her cheek. "But I'm not going to allow them to take you so easily, my dear Cassy. You're my friend, and have been for years. And I have two things which will help you on your journey."

Cassandra blinked. "My journey?"

"You're leaving Angliea, as soon as I can spirit you off to a port. I've already arranged it. It's two day's travel from here to Sothington, but once we have you there, I have a friend who works for a shipping business at the port who will get you on board a ship with no questions asked and no papers filed. I've seen to paying for the passage, and I'll pay in cash should we need a room for the night on our way. We can't have you using papers of credit; the court will demand those if any word gets out that you've made a run for it, and they will figure out where you've gone if we're not careful."

"You'd help me become a fugitive?" Cassandra said.

"You're not a criminal yet," Eveline said with a smirk on her face. "So I'm not aiding one."

Cassandra's face fell again, gaze dipping to stare at her hands wringing themselves in her lap. "I'll have nothing once I... I don't even know where to go."

"I promise you, Cassandra, I have it all arranged for you. As soon as I suspected what was happening, what happened with you and Estelle, what was happening with Violette and the courts, I started to devise a plan. The details aren't important now. The important thing is you need to pack, and pack light. We need to be out of here after nightfall. No one can know that you're leaving home, and I'm not going to chance someone spotting you while we're on the road." Eveline stepped back and clapped her hand together once before pointing to the door. "Now, get to your room and gather what you might need."

Cassandra sat in place, though, hands locked around themselves. "I don't know..."

"Young lady, get up and sort yourself together! This is no time to drag your feet! Love and freedom await you!" Eveline clapped again, louder this time; the noise was like a thunderstrike, and got her to her feet in an instant. She turned to Eveline, eyes wide, as the elder woman again pointed towards the door. "Stop sulking, and get moving!"

~ 

She wasted little time. The threat of capture at any time, and the possibility of knowing what had become of her Estelle, made her hands and feet race as quickly as her heart. Shirt and skirts, undergarments and instruments of personal grooming were shoved into a traveling bag, haphazardly at best, and more often with little concern for any sense of where to find anything later. It didn't matter, she told herself; wherever she was going, as soon as she was in more secure surroundings, as soon as she had a plan it would all be sorted back out properly.

Eveline entered after a short while, helping her change into clothing suitable for travel before hurrying her down the stairs. "The manor," Cassandra said, looking around at the hallway surrounding the grand stairway. "How will it be cared for? Even without the courts, Violette will take it in a heartbeat as soon as she realizes I've abandoned it. She'll take everything..." Her eyes widened, her feet freezing halfway to the door. "Eveline, the delights!"

"I'll see to all of it. I don't understand how it is you make them, so you'll have to tell me what you can while we're on route to Sothington. I'll make sure Violette keeps her paws off of things... oh, don't look at me like that!" Eveline frowned at Cassandra, her hand already on the front door. The sky was already orange and red outside, peeks of color showing through the cloud cover. Light would be gone, soon, allowing them to travel in secret. "I've made my fortune managing land and farms, Cassy! I can see to whatever operation you've got going on here... hell, the house will be in better shape than you've seen it in years by the time you and Estelle return home."

Cassandra stared at her, still motionless. "You really think we'll be able to return? After what's come out about me?"

"It'll blow over, eventually." Eveline shook her head. "Society has a very short attention span; once the fuss subsides, the law will let the matter go. It might take time for you to go back into business again, but they'll all come back to you. We're all just as guilty as you are, dear."

Eveline pulled the door open, jerking her head in the portal's direction. "Let's get going. There's not a moment for us to waste... you need as much distance between yourself and the law as possible."

Cassandra breathed deep, and took one last look at the house around her. Her family's legacy, and her last tie to her parents besides her name. For a moment, she heard the distance sound of her own, childish laughter, joined by her parents, her father waltzing with her in the parlor as her mother played the piano, a music, a cheerfulness, she hadn't heard in years. They would play like this, she remembered; her mother had studied in a conservatory as a young lady, her father admitted that her performance was what spellbound him to her, what called to him, what made her irresistible. 

She would hire dozens of servants when she returned, she decided. No matter that she had no idea how she would pay for them. She'd sort that out while she was away, surely. She would hire so many to tend the house that Estelle would no longer need to serve her. She would have to ask Estelle if she played piano; no, she decided. She would have a servant play the piano, and she would teach the waltz to Estelle.

"Cassandra." Eveline's voice was firm, demanding, though trying hard not to sound severe.

She nodded and took her hand from the wall, willing herself forward towards the door. "I'm sorry. Let's go, then."

~ 

Eveline's car trundled through the night, making its way along the dirt road that passed Cassandra's house, until it reached the stone highway that followed along the southern bank of the Tyems. Cassandra sat in the seats in the back, looking out the window towards the wide, dark expanse of the waters, a wind-chopped reflection of the gray-violet sky above them. Off in the distance, she could see the lantern lights of Ostinum's churches, the great towers of the halls of Parliament, man's imitation of the twinkling stars that hid for the moment behind a curtain of clouds.

The river would be shrouded by fog in the morning, Cassandra told herself. Rain often brought the thick, murky, ground-clinging blanket over the landscape, creeping up from the river and across the countryside, eventually encroaching on her estate. It would be good cover, she told herself; Sothington was too far to reach in one night. They would have to stay somewhere at a halfway point, and rely on the morning fog and the dimness of evening's twilight to cover their arrival and departure enough to keep prying eyes off of them, but not enough to arouse suspicion.

There was a wool blanket in the car's backseat. Cassandra's pulled it, and a cloak she'd taken with her as she packed, around herself and closed her eyes, tuning out the car's rattles and jumps as best as she was able. She needed to sleep, and for the time being, this was the best bed she was going to find.

She woke later with Eveline's hand at her shoulder, rousing her just enough to urge her through the door of an inn at the edge of a town who's name she did not know. Nor did she care to know; she simply sat, cloak around herself, while Eveline paid out a day's board to the young boy behind the inn's counter.

With Eveline's arm wrapped around her back, she walked upstairs and through the door of their room, collapsing within moments onto the bed there. The pillows, coarse as their cases were, were softer at least than the leather-and-wood seats in the automobile, and the bed didn't jerk and buck any time she found a way to lay comfortably again.

Time passed. She wasn't sure how much. When she woke up, afternoon light cut across the room from the single window, Eveline entering from the hallway with lemonade and a couple of sandwiches.

"You're finally up," she said with a smile, and set the tray down the unoccupied side of the bed. She offered a sandwich, wrapped in paper, to Cassandra. "Have a bite, dear. I imagine it's probably the best meal you've had for a while."

Cassandra scowled, but took the sandwich in both hands, nonetheless. "I know how to cook for myself," she said before stuffing a corner of her food into her mouth.

Eveline nodded and poured the two of them a cup to drink, waiting for Cassandra to take hers before tending to her own. "We'll be in Sothington tomorrow by dawn. I've paid the boy at the front desk good money to see that my auto is fueled up to the top of the tank. The last thing I want is to get stranded out in the middle of a bog or some nonsense like that."

"So we get to the port," Cassandra said, muttering through her mouthful. "And then what?"

"Then," Eveline said, showing the briefest of smiles between sips of her lemonade, "you sail off on a steamer bound for Ul-Shams."

"Ul-Shams?" Cassandra sputtered, coughing for a moment as she nearly coughed on her food. Her hand went to her chest, beating against her breastbone until her airway opened itself again. "Eveline, that's all the way around... It's hundreds of miles from here! How do you know even know she's gone there, that Estelle's gone back there? She could be anywhere!"

Eveline nodded, taking a bite or two from her sandwich before setting it back onto its paper. "She could be," she said, taking a drink before continuing. "However, I have on good authority that she left Sothington bound on the same route I'm going to be putting you on, not long after you say she left you. At least, someone with the same name, and a Shamsi family name, left from the port."

Cassandra shook her head, staring down at the half-eaten sandwich in her hand. "It might not be her. You had no idea she was gone, wasn't even sure what was going on until you spoke to me... yet you arranged all of this..."

"I won't lie. The two of you seemed cold, distant to one another, at your showing." Cassandra lifted her head to speak, only to be stopped by Eveline's hand held out at arm's length, only a few inches from covering her mouth. "No, I don't want to hear about it. It's not my business and I won't be privy to your personal affairs. I don't need to know; it's for you and her to deal with."

Cassandra sighed and bowed her head again, only to lift it at the feel of Eveline's hand on her back. The woman had set their tray aside, settling closer to her on the bed as she pulled Cassandra gently towards her. She tilted sideways, her head falling onto it landed against Eveline's shoulder. Curls of red hair, tangled around themselves, spilled over the older woman's back. "I will make sure you have nothing to worry about here," Eveline said, her voice soft, just above a whisper that she spoke into Cassandra's ear. "Your attention should be on the road ahead. Whatever it is you have to settle between you and Estelle, that should be the only thing to occupy your thoughts. You can deal with Violette, with the law, with your delights, once the more important things are tended to."

"You shouldn't care so much," Cassandra said, feeling something warm on her cheeks. She turned her head, and watching spots start to soak into Eveline's blouse. "I'm a dreadful person, and I do dreadful things."

"Growing up, darling, is learning how to live with what you do." Eveline smiled, combing her fingers through Cassandra's hair. Cassandra sighed, curling against her companion's side; it was comforting, not quite like a mother's touch would be, but wiser than a lover's often tended to be. Others might find the cosmopolitan noisy and unbearable, but deep down, her company made her feel more secure, more sure, than she had since Estelle departed.

"You're sure it was her," she said, voice quiet as she laid the weight of her body against Eveline. "You're sure it was my Estelle who got onto that ship?"

"Nothing is for sure," Eveline said, unwinding locks of red hair from around themselves. "But I have a feeling. And that's worth more than enough, for now."

~ 

They left that night, again as the sun was dipping below the horizon. The innkeeper's assistant, the young boy who'd seen them in, said nothing as he helped them out behind the in and into Eveline's automobile.  Eveline simply offered a silent smile, and a considerable tip in cash, before she took the rumbling engine out of park and rolled back onto the road out of town.

The town that Cassandra hadn't bothered to learn the name of disappeared into the night and the trees not far down the highway. The road turned away from the river now, plunging into the woodlands of southern Angliea. Eveline's eyes constantly scanned over the road as they moved forward, watching the shadows between the trees. Novelists might still romanticize the horseback highwayman, Cassandra thought as she watched the slow, back-and-forth pivot of her companion's head, but the reality was that there were still figures concealing themselves in the country's backroads, waiting with knife and pistol to snatch up anything of worth. With nothing but her luggage bag of clothes and whatever money Eveline still had with her for the journey back towards Ostinum, Cassandra's mind filled with dread at what reaction such a robber might have to the two of them.

She shivered and pulled her cloak and blanket around herself with a shell. Estelle; she whispered the name to herself. Think of Estelle.

Her servant, her love, across the mountains and hills of Galia and Ispanya, across the deep blue waves of the Central Sea crashing against rocky shores. The Khalifahte of Ul-Shams was at the very edge of the modern world, an outcropping of civilization perched between the vast blue of the oceans and the Central Sea, and the deadly wastes of the deserts that stretched out almost endlessly beyond its green shore and steep mountains that rose into the sky. It was another world, living to another rhythm than the one she was fleeing from. She would be alone-- vastly more than she was already. She would not only be without family, but without connections, without money, without a direction to guide her in. She had only the name of her beloved Estelle, a name she kept breathing in over tightly pursed lips, before whispering it back out again.

What would she even say, what would Estelle even say, if she did find her in that foreign land? Cassandra shivered under her blanket, feeling small beneath its bulk. She tried to imagine Estelle, dressed in Shamsi garb, scowling at her in some plaza or marketplace, or wherever else she might cross paths with her. This was the woman, she would surely say, and point her out to everyone in the crowd. This was the woman who forced me into sorcery, who begged me to help her understand powers not meant for human hands, powers to do dark and twisted things. She would turn the whole crowd on her, and she would be brought to a death worse than the gallows that were surely being readied for her back in Ostinum.

She winced, and shook her head. No! She would be on her knees, confess that she wanted nothing more than to be lovers, to share her life with Estelle. She would renounce their contract forever, and invite her back home to Angliea as her equal, to share her life. She smiled and nodded quickly within her blanket. The past would be forgotten; they'd obtain what they needed in Estelle's native land, and return with wealth and servants to tend to the house and delights, and all the while, Violette and her nonsense will have been forgotten and the courts dropped the whole affair over magic, just as Eveline assured her would happen. She would live happy, peaceful and happy and in love, and it would all work out in the end. It would all work out, and she would never need plans and schemes again to survive.

I'll have what Mother and Father had, she said, whispering the thought to herself. She would have that happiness, the happiness they shared so freely with her, their darling child, and nothing could ever take it away. After everything she'd lost, nothing would ever take anything away from her ever again.

She nodded this assurance to herself, and closed her eyes, hoping that the next time they opened, she would be at the dockside, slipping onto her ship and her passage to Ul-Shams, and back to Estelle and the other half of her heart.

~ 

She woke, instead, to rain and terse, tense conversation.

Cassandra shifted under her blankets, staring up from her makeshift bed in the automobile's backseat and out the window. Eveline's back was to her, the woman's hands tense at her sides as she stared at a figure mostly hidden behind her. All Cassandra could see was a sleeve, dark blue, broken with a red and white stripe just above the hem.

She tensed, and swallowed the lump in her throat. They were surely just a custom's guard, standing watch over the port, checking for smuggled goods. Which, she reminded herself, she was about to become.

Her hand reached out, taking the crank handle for the window, rolling the glass down enough for her to hear the rain and conversation passing outside.

"I'll ask you again, Ma'am," said the officer, her voice unwavering, as steady as a mortared stone wall. "It will only take a moment. I simply need to see your cousin and her ticket, and you can both be on your way."

"I haven't the time for this nonsense, officer," came Eveline's reply. Her voice was short, with the snap at the end of her sentences of someone exercising the strain in their voice so as to sound more annoyed than afraid. "Our steamer's to leave any moment now, and I've spent months arranging this whole trip. My darling cousin's been terribly excited about studying abroad..."

"I'm perfectly happy to believe that, Ma'am."

"...so I insist, simply insist, that you not harass the two of us-- two Angliean citizens, and myself a lady of high society, myself!-- and let us go on our way with boarding!"

"And I must insist, Ma'am," the guard said, turning Eveline's turn back around at her, "that I am obliged by my duty to the Crown to perform my duties as a customs officer to anyone planning to enter and exit Her Majesty's domains. Now, if you'll please ask your cousin to step out of the automobile..."

Eveline crossed her arms, stiffening her back to raise herself taller than the guard. "I will do no such thing! I won't have you bothering my dear..."

"Ma'am, I must ask you to step aside..."

Cassandra held her breath, her hand still gripping the crank for the window. She was doomed, she realized; the guard would see her face. Surely, word that she was the woman responsible for sorcery, for dark magic that shrank the unwilling into sweet snacks, had spread even this far south by now. Her face would be recognized, she would be captured, and she would be sent to her death without even managing to take a step forward in her journey to reconcile herself to Estelle.

She shook her head. No! Her vision of the future was too clear to be stopped short by a damned custom's officer!

Eveline and the guard spun about as the car door snapped open. Feet crunched against wet gravel and mud, and a flash of red hair sliced through the rain and heavy air. Cassandra stumbled, feet sliding against the slick ground, before finally righting herself, face half-obscured , mud staining the hem of her skirt.

The customs guard's eyes widened. Cassandra felt the rain beating down on her head, through her hair and onto her scalp, slowly washing the oils onto her dress' collar. Her heels shifted against the gravel, listening to it crunch over the steady beat of the rain against the docks, against crates, against everything.

"You're..." The guard took a step forward. Eveline turned, starting to step between the guard and Cassandra. This was it, Cassandra told herself. This was the moment to begin everything. To start over.

Her boots dug down into the gravel, kicking it up, pieces of broken-up stone flung through the air into the guard's knees. The guard bit her lip, swearing as the pieces cut against her trousers, her own boots jamming down into the ground as she launched forward after Cassandra, arm thrusting out at Eveline's chest to push the shouting woman out of her path.

Cassandra ran. Cassandra never ran; though she figured if there was ever a time to start, it was when the danger of imminent execution was one pair of handcuffs away. It was probably the best motivation she could imagine to force her muscles into the most strenuous labor that had ever been demanded of them.

Run. Run now!

She grunted; her body slammed against the iron gate, throwing it open. It wasn't locked. She gasped and staggered through the fence, the shouting and footsteps of the guard closing in fast behind her. The dock was just ahead, the ramp leading up to the steamship's deck still there, waiting for her to climb, to run. Smoke billowed from the stacks, rising up to meet the clouded sky.

Run!

She shouted, shoving the iron gate back as she ran forward again, striking the guard in the face with it as she raced over to the ramp. Just a little further. Just a little further!

"Lady Selby! Lady Selby, cease and desist immediately!" The guard flung open the gate that had closed in her face, scrambling over the ground after her. "Lady Selby, you are under arrest! Cease and desist and turn yourself in!"

Cassandra sucked in breath after breath, crying out as she exhaled, hair whipping out behind her as her skirt flapped against her legs, the wet fabric sticking against her. The guard was wearing trousers; the guard was not getting weighted down like she was. The guard was getting closer.

The steamship's horn blared into the twilight, echoing over the port. The pillars of smoke rising from the stacks grew thicker, darker.

Cassandra screamed and lunged onto the ramp, boots clattering against the planks, her hands gripping the rail. One hand over the other, she pulled herself forward, her arms aching as they pulled her way upward. She was on the ramp. She was nearly onto the ship's deck.

The ramp rattled twice as hard under her steps. Cassandra looked back, and saw that the customs guard landing her boots on the bottom of the ramp. She snarled and turned back ahead, renewing her sprint up the ramp. Forward. Ul-Shams was forward. Estelle was forward. Freedom from execution, from humiliation before the court and her peers, from Violette and bankruptcy, were all forward. She was not going to be held back, not by a customs guard, not a haughty banker intent on destroying her, not by the damned Queen of the Empire if she was intent on sticking her nose into matters!

She gasped, and stopped as her feet struck down against more solid planks. She spun around, and saw that she'd left the ramp behind, and was solidly on the deck of a ship. A ship moments away from leaving port. She smiled, and looked down the ramp, at the guard still scrambling her way upwards, a few lengths away from reaching Cassandra. A few dozen feet that no longer mattered.

Cassandra looked over the edge, and smiled down at the guard. She was a good woman; a young woman, square-faced, black hair pulled back in a ponytail. She could start to see the freckles on her cheeks. She was a good kid, Cassandra was sure; just following her orders. She was probably going to get a nice bonus for turning her in.

She shook her head, and shoved the ramp over the edge. The guard clutched the rail, staring in shock up at  Cassandra as the ramp fell back to the dock, slamming against the pier with a bang.

Cassandra held to the ship's rail, looking back over the landscape, at Eveline slowing her pace, at the rain-soaked landscape of the Sothington port. This was more than a farewell to her home, she realized. It was a farewell to Angliea, to everything she knew and recognized, to every connection and tie she possessed.

Except one. She turned her back to her homeland, and walked forward to find the nearest door into the ship and out of the rain. There was only the way forward. There was only the way to Ul-Shams. There was, and would only be, the way forward to Estelle.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cassandra arrives in the distant country of Ul-Shams, finding herself alone and without support. A stranger offers her help, and she encounters a familiar face in a place she did not expect!

Days followed one another, stretching into a week and then another, before Cassandra caught sight of the mountains of Ul-Shams on the horizon, the morning of her fifteenth day at sea. The broad, towering peaks were a welcome relief after days and nights of the same endless blue that rocked against the gray, iron steamship plodding its way down the coast of the continent and across the straits that separated the northern and southern shores of the Great Central Sea. Rust red mountains, capped with snow, rose from the thin line of the horizon. Hours later, the coastline was more distinct, and she could see the harbors and buildings of Kasabla.

They approached the port and docked by mid-afternoon. The moment a ramp was brought to the ship's side, a team of Shamsi men and women hurried on deck, greeting the crew before making their way down into the cargo holds. Cassandra waited for the crowd to thin before disembarking. She wasn't even officially supposed to be a passenger, and didn't want to cause more of a fuss than she already had trying to fit among the crew without getting in their way.

She had nothing. Her bag was left behind in Eveline's car when she made her getaway past the customs guard, and the outfit she'd worn on board was thoroughly ruined by the wind, mud, and chase. The ship's captain, a lean, hard-muscled woman, was courteous enough to give her two pair of pants and two shirts. Her own boots, at least, held up under her run, and she could manage with washing her own undergarments with a washboard and tub while the rest of the crew was going about their business. Only a handful of the sailors were men, but it nonetheless seemed absolutely indecent to wash lingerie in full view of everyone.

She was on land at last, though; solid, stationary land. She was quickly off the dock, pleased by how easy it was to move quickly unencumbered by skirts and hoops and bustles. She was off the pier in what seemed like heartbeats, and had to stifle a giggle as she jumped down from the wood planks onto the shore.

Kasabla's port was bustling, people hurrying in all directions with rope and spikes, linen for sails and great cartloads of coal in processions dozens of people long. The whole thing was mezmerizing. She'd never gone down to Ostinum's docks, and had never seen a place as busy as this. She had no business to do in a place like that, and it was far too dirty and dangerous for a woman of her class to be hanging around in. People might start to think otherwise, might get the wrong impression, if she was seen...

She shook her head, thrusting her hands into pockets-- she had pockets!-- as she climbed the steps up onto the stone plaza at the highest tier of the harbor. She was elsewhere, now, worlds away from Angliea and from anyone who might think anything of her as more than just a strange, disoriented woman. Gulls called overhead, and the constant shout and clamor of Shamsi voices rolled and twisted around on another before pouring down on her ears, wrestling with the din of metal chains and steamships' horns.

She needed to get some bearings. She needed to find Estelle, and hadn't the slightest idea where to start. She walked through the plaza, turning this way and that, grabbing the first person she could think of-- a woman in a loosely-belted tunic and pants, who seemed just as startled and confused as Cassandra did.

"Excuse me, I'm trying to find someone..."

The dockhand blinked, and shook her head, asking what she presumed was a question in words she couldn't understand. The stranger paused, and then shook her head again at the look of incomprehension of Cassandra's face. Of course, Cassandra thought to herself. The first person I find had to be someone who doesn't know a bit of Angliean. She shook her head, and the dockhand sighed, pointing across the plaza before saying something else in the Shamsi's tongue.

"Thank you," she said, but the woman was already off, disappearing back into the ever-moving crowd around the docks. She sighed and followed the dockhand's direction, weaving around people moving freight and materials, until finally one crowd thinned out, and another appeared.

A broad avenue stretched out ahead of her, flanked on either side by shops and stalls that went on for as far as the eye could see. The din was more conversational, layer on layer of chatter on top of one another, mixing into one mass as she approached. It was still impenetrable to her ears and her mind, but it was, at least, less chaotic than the frantic activity of the port.

She ventured into the market, taking in the colors, the scents, the glitter of crystal and silver, the clink of coins exchanged and jewelers making last-minute refinements to their products. Further down, there was meat of some sort roasting over open flame. She could smell the herbs and salt drifting downwind, and felt her own mouth water. Her every meal aboard the steamer consisted of stew, and the possibility of solid food existing anywhere near her was enough to make her stomach growl with hunger.

She was hungry, she realized. And, worse, she was penniless. Eveline had stuffed a small amount of money into her bag, but that was left back in Angliea, and was likely anywhere by now. Presumably, Eveline got away, but there was no way to know for sure. At the very least, she was likely now to be brought in before a judge sooner rather than later. Something twisted in her gut, and not simply out of hunger; she would owe Lady Starling an enormous debt when she returned.

If she returned, for that matter.

She sighed, and paused in front of a booth, enticed by the smell of fresh bread. Loaves, some rounded and some flattened, lay out alongside clay jars of a stuff Cassandra had never seen; it looked like porridge, but thicker and drier, cool-smelling against the bread's warmth. She picked a jar up, smelling more closely, and felt her stomach shudder again in hunger.

She startled at the sound of someone calling out sharply, a woman shuffling over from the other side of the booth. She was older, her face lined, a black scarf laced through with silver thread wrapped over her hair and down onto her shoulders. She smiled for a moment, then pointed at the jar in Cassandra's hand, starting to launch into what she could only assume was a sales pitch.

"I'm sorry," Cassandra said, and shook her head. "I don't understand you."

The old woman sighed, and turned around, waving someone forward from the back of the booth, a much younger girl, younger probably than Cassandra was. Trim arms and delicate hands moved fluidly under the loose, cream-colored sleeves of her wrap, holding up the bread that had laid beside the jar Cassandra held. The old woman frowned at her, pulling the edge of the girl's scarf forward over the front of her hair.

"I'm sorry, miss; my aunt is not familiar with Angliean." The girl sounded cheerful, but tired. Her aunt had shuffled away again to attend to a customer she knew how to speak to, leaving her alone with Cassandra. "The hummus is blended with sugarcane, imported all the way from Misrih. It's very refreshing, I promise."

"It smells refreshing," Cassandra said, but frowned. "I haven't any money, though. I lost it on my way here...I have nothing but the clothes on my back. I'm sorry to bother you."

She set the jar back onto the table and turned to walk away, only to feel the girl's hand close around her wrist. Her throat tensed. She was unused to someone simply grabbing her. Her arm twitched and felt ready to pull away, but she urged herself to relax. She wasn't a Lady here. She was little more than a vagabond, a stowaway on a freight ship. The usual decorum no longer applied.

The girl looked over her shoulder, then broke off a piece of bread that she wrapped in paper and handed to Cassandra. "It's the most I can offer without my aunt getting angry," she said, leaning towards Cassandra to whisper to her. "At least you won't be hungry."

"T... thank you." Cassandra blinked, then stuffed the packet under one arm, hoping no one would pay any notice. Her earlier questions buzzed in her mind. Here was someone, at least, who knew her own language. It was worth a try. "I'm trying to find someone... I think she came here, from my own country. Do you know who could help me?"

"Do you know her name?"

"She told me her name was Estelle," Cassandra said. "I'm afraid I don't know much more than that."

The girl bit her lip, lids half-closing over dark green eyes. "I don't know the name," she answered after several moments' thought. "The call for the afternoon's prayers will go out shortly, though. Follow a crowd, and wait in the gardens outside of one of the masajids. You might find someone there who can help you find who you are looking for."

Cassandra nodded. "I owe you so much for this..."

"You owe me nothing. You're poor, and you're lost. All I've done is point you in a direction." She smiled, and waved a hand, urging Cassandra to move along. "Now, get going before my aunt notices you with that bread!"

Cassandra mouthed her thanks and slipped back into the crowd, relieved to see in one last glimpse of the baker's booth that the elder woman still had her attention on another customer. The bread smelled delicious, its warmth and scent drifting to her nose even through the paper wrapped around it. It wasn't meat, but it was surely more delicious than anything she'd eaten since she'd set sail.

A long, resonant cry rang out over the rooftops. Soon, it was echoed by another voice, and then another. The bustle of activity around Cassandra slowed to a halt as customers finished their business and hurried out onto the roads and alleys that crossed the broad avenue of the market. Shopkeepers hung cloths in their stalls, packing their wares out of sight, before joining the steam of people flowing out of the markets.

Cassandra hesitated, head turning from side to side, trying to decide which way to go. At last, she joined a group of women turning onto the road to her left, deciding to follow them to wherever they ended up going. Perhaps she would have to walk from prayer house to prayer house, temple to temple, trying to find whomever might recognize the name 'Estelle.' It didn't matter. At least, for the moment, she had a plan, and that was more than she had when she arrived here.

~ 

It was only a short walk, a few minutes perhaps, before the group Cassandra followed arrived at the masjid. The city opened up around the prayer house. A large plaza and garden wrapped around an airy, delicate looking structure framed not with solid walls, but wide arches balanced on top of trim, ornately detailed columns. Beyond those were solid walls, with women streaming through the doors in a smaller building before emerging on the other side, proceeding into the main section of the complex.

Cassandra drifted away from the group, trying to keep out of the way of the in-going worshipers. She never thought of herself as terribly religious: she attended services for holidays like any woman of her class, keeping things up as a matter of not stirring up needless gossip. Outside of such public displays, though, she was never one to care for religion. Her attentions were on here the here-and-now. There was too much to take care of, too much to do, to worry much about a hereafter.

Several fountains were spread around the plaza. When it looked as though most of the crowd was inside the temple, she sat down and unwrapped her bread, tearing off a handful to eat. It was beautiful, though, she thought, drinking in the sight of the flat structure, a round tower rising from one of it's corners, crowned at the top with arches and a great, brass dome. That was where the call she'd heard from the marketplace had come from, she realized as the resonant voice fell silent. It was what they used in place of bells, it seemed, though she had no idea why such a difference had come about.

The bread was sweet; unbelievably so. She sighed as she bit into her handful, chewing slowly, letting the soft, air-filled food melt on her tongue. It took all willpower not to gobble the whole package up. It would be a terrible idea, she finally convinced herself. She was still without money, and had no idea where her next meal would come from. She should save it, even if her stomach were still growling in protest at the idea. 

Instead, she set the food back into the paper in her lap, and dipped her hands into the fountain. The stone looked pristine, and as clear as the water bubbling and flowing within appeared, she hoped it was just as clean. She brought the handful to her lips, sipping the water and letting its cool wash the slowly mounting, stifling heat from her body. No wonder they all went indoors to pray at mid-afternoon, like this-- it was surely better than standing out in the sun!

She thought of getting up and going inside. It would make it easier, after all, to try and catch someone's attention once the service or however it was, was over. Would it be rude to enter in the middle of things, like that? She had no idea of the etiquette of Shamsi prayers, and had only been in the country for hardly more that an hour or two-- she would be out of options quick if she made a fool of herself in the middle of something as important to people here as a religious service!

Before she could consider the questions further, the doors to the masjid opened again, and the women within began to enter back out onto the plaza, breaking into smaller groups as they spread out, talking among one another. Was that it? Cassandra blinked, gathering up her bread as she stood up. They were hardly inside for more than a quarter or a half of an hour, or only a little more than that. Was something else supposed to happen?

She made her way towards the buildings that made up the main part of the masjid, feeling as though she were walking with her feet just off the ground. Everything was a daze. Who would she even talk to? Was there a minister she could ask questions to, or would that be presumptuous? Should she just start asking, woman to woman, until someone possibly gave her an answer? And if none of them did, what then? When was the next prayer? How long would she have to wait?

"Miss?"

She gasped and spun around, dropping her bundled bread loaf as her knees threatened to buckle under her. A firm hand grabbed her arm, pulling her back onto the flats of her feet. "I'm sorry!" Cassandra said, coughing as her surprise subsided. "I'd gotten lost in my own head, and I didn't know someone was..."

"You're fine, dear. However, if you're going into the mushalla, you should take those off." The woman pointed at Cassandra's boots. "You don't have to wash if you're not here to pray, though. I doubt you're meaning to, if you've been sitting out here this whole time."

"No. I'm sorry." Cassandra shook her head, ducking down to retrieve her bread. The woman who caught her was young. Round in the jaw and cheeks, but the skin over them was smooth and unlined. Her hair was covered like many of the others, though a few strands of ink-black hair peeked out over her forehead. She was a thick, solid-built woman, square-handed and broad shouldered, wearing a modern, Continental blouse with a loose-knit sweater, her skirt as dark as her hair, with a rainbow of rich color sewn into intricate patterns that wrapped the full way around.

She looked well-to-do, Cassandra realized. Which surely meant she knew people, and knew names. "I was looking for someone. Perhaps... perhaps you could help me find her."

The woman nodded slowly, and walked beside Cassandra, leading her back out onto the open plaza. "I can try, and God-willing, you can find who you're looking for. Who is it you're looking for?"

"Her name is Estelle. I'm afraid I don't know her family name, or anything like that..." Cassandra sighed, her hands working nervously over her bundle of food, feeling the paper crinkle under her fingers. "She was my servant, back in Angliea. But we had... we had a disagreement, and she left. I think she's come back here, to Ul-Shams, and I've come to look for her. Do you know of anyone like that?"

"I may, in fact." 

Cassandra's heart sped up at the woman's reply. She knew Estelle! She would finally see her again, and on her first try, at that! "You really can help me? I would be forever in your debt, ma'am!"

The other woman nodded, and took gentle hold of Cassandra's arm. "Moreover, I can provide you room and board. All you'll owe in return is to work in the household I care for."

Cassandra laughed. "Of course, of course! That's no trouble... I'm... I'm a self-made woman, after all. I see to my own business back in Angliea. I would be more than happy to assist you!"

"We shall see. My name is Salima..." She stepped ahead of Cassandra, offering her a handshake. "What was yours, young lady?"

"Cassy." Cassandra smiled and took Salima's hand. She should be careful. If she was about to meet Estelle, it might be best if she didn't give her name right away. Her love might reject her before they could even meet, if she knew who was trying to approach her. "My name is Cassy."

"Kasi, then," Salima said, and turned back around in one step, waving with one hand over her shoulder for Cassandra to follow her. "Come along, then. I should get back to work, then, and you should get started."

Cassandra felt herself lighten with every step forward. Estelle, she kept repeating to herself. She was finally about to be reintroduced to her Estelle. "Absolutely, ma'am," she said, suppressing the need to laugh joyfully at her turn of fortune. Things would turn out well soon enough, and she'd hardly had to plan for any of it at all!

~ 

Salima led her across the city, down one street and then another, through a maze of tight alleys and broad avenues, all bustling with people working, people talking, people going about their lives. "I was at the market delivering orders for the family that I and my staff serve-- between meeting with important contacts of theirs, and their own leisure time, they don't have time themselves to attend to every little transaction. I leave much of the work to the household servants, but Lady Azhar and her daughter tend to entrust their most crucial errands to me."

"They seem quite powerful," Cassandra said, drinking in the woman's words, wondering who this Lady Azhar was in relation to her Estelle. "Though, I can't say I've heard the name before."

"Our country does a bit of trade with yours, though most of our business with your Continent is done in Galia, with the islands of the Central Sea, Helia and Serbija, as well as all the nations of the Lyban shore and the deserts and valleys beyond. Angliea's empire rarely trades more than blows with our end of the world."

That was certainly true, Cassandra thought to herself. The papers were often filled with international squabbles over land rights, mineral rights, fishing rights, between her homeland and the royal houses that dominated the frontiers of Aribya and Ariya. "Perhaps," Cassandra offered hopefully, "I could help them make inroads. I do have considerable connections back home." It wasn't entirely a lie, she assured herself. She would iron out the details of things as they came up. Once the whole controversy over her and sorcery blew over, perhaps Eveline could put her in touch with the right people. It would be a legitimate business, and she would never have to deal with her delights again, except for her own enjoyment.

Salima, however, simply nodded and didn't press her with more questions about the suggestion, which Cassandra felt was for the best. It was a bit later before she said, "You'd have to take up any discussion with Lady Azhar's daughter, though I'll warn you it might take some time. You won't be in any position to discuss business with her, being a newcomer such as yourself."

"I can certainly understand that," Cassandra said. It wouldn't take that long, she assured herself. Just long enough to earn the favor of the Lady and her daughter. Estelle would see her doing real business, not her formerly illicit line of work, and would be willing to discuss coming back to her. It was all coming together beautifully, she told herself!

The road moved upwards, winding into the hills on the far side of the city. Cassandra could feel sweat on her brow, her breaths growing deeper, more strained, the further uphill they walked. She paused at one point, leaning against a stone wall that bounded the cliffside of the road, looking out over the rooftops and minarets of the city. "How much further," she said, curls of hair falling ever-looser in the heat, "do we have to go?"

Salima chuckled and turned back towards her, arms crossed around her middle. "Are we having a bit of difficulty?"

Cassandra winced and stood up, shoving herself off the wall. She straightened her back, gritting her teeth as she ignored the dull ache in her legs and back. "Not at all! I'm just not used to this heat, is all."

"You'll get used to it. Come on."

They traveled further on, until at last-- to Cassandra's relief-- the road leveled out at the top of the hill. She stopped again and gasped, though this time her legs shook from awe as much as from the pain of walking so much.

The house was massive, and looked as much like a fortress as it did a private residence. It looked more in line with the castles of her homeland than it did the manor she lived in. A low wall bounded the estate, an iron gate dividing the world inside from the one beyond. Tall, arched windows framed in bright red tile were set into cream-colored walls. Terraces sat atop the ground floor level at each corner, with beautiful glass domes that glittered in the afternoon sunlight over the roofs of the rooms that led out to them. The sound of flowing water could be heard nearby, and the air smelled pleasantly of numerous varieties of flowers.

Salima led her around the wall, towards another gate, smaller than the first they arrived at. "You'll need to bathe and change before you go on any further," she said as she ushered Cassandra into the compound. "I imagine you'd want to anyway, as far as you've traveled."

"Of course, I would love to," Cassandra said, trying to steady her voice. The home was even more beautiful from inside the walls. Gardens filled the grounds surrounding the home, paths paved with smooth stone arcing gently among the flower bushes. A long, shallow pool stretched from the gate they entered. She could see that another followed a similar path from the gate they'd passed earlier, ending in a three-tiered fountain before what she imagined was the main entrance to the house.

Other women, all dressed similarly in light colored, wide sleeved tunics and long, black skirts, walked by them. Each nodded and acknowledged Salima's presence, then looked curiously at the red-haired woman following her through the garden. Servants, Cassandra imagined; a house this size must take a considerable staff to keep it running properly. She counted eight such-dressed servants on their way to the door, some tending the gardens, while others seemed to be moving from place to place, carrying something or hurrying elsewhere to-- she presumed-- obtain whatever they'd been asked to get.

Salima pushed the heavy wooden doors open and waved for Cassandra to enter. "The family prefers to use the baths in town, though there is one here, mainly for the servants to use as a matter of convenience," she said, stopping in front a door a short distance into the home. "If you'll go ahead inside and undress, I'll send one of the girls in to help you wash up."

Cassandra entered, jumping when Salima shut the door behind her, and stared into the room. Benches rested against the nearest wall, while a large, warm pool took up much of the rest of the room. Intricate mosaics covered the floor, each tile hardly bigger than her fingernails. She bit her lip, staring at them for a moment, worried that her boots might crack the seemingly-delicate art under her feet. She leaned against the wall for support, pulling her footwear off and leaving them by the door before venturing onward.

The room had no windows, which made sense she supposed, as a bath should be a private thing. While her bathroom had one, it was high up enough that no one could really see inside. She took a seat on the bench, undressing out of her traveling clothes, pleased to finally be free of the coarse, salt-water and sweat-smelling garments. Her discarded clothing was tossed into a pile further down the bench, until she sat, naked and breathing warm steam deep into her lungs.

The floor was warm at least, heated by the hot water in the bath, she imagined. She walked over the tiles and down the steps into the water, sighing as her feet dipped down into it. She could almost feel the grime of two weeks of travel peel away from her skin, her chest swelling and falling as the heat sunk down into her muscle and bone.

She had just settled down into the bath, immersed up to mid-chest, when the door to the room opened again. One of the servant girls, dressed in the same uniform she'd seen earlier, entered with a basket filled with small glass jars filled with different colors of liquids, and a pair of mitts. She was young, still a teenager, Cassandra thought. Her face still carried a lingering bit of baby fat. Her hair was a darker tone of her own red, her hands small and short-fingered as they went about unpacking her basket.

She knelt at the bath's edge, and Cassandra blushed as she undressed herself, pulling her tunic up over her head to lay it aside. Her skirt and intimates followed, and before she could muster words from her sputtering lips, the young servant sat naked on the edge of the bath, legs in the water, an amused smile on her face as she looked down at Cassandra. "Did you expect," she said, "that I would get into the bath with my clothes on?"

"I didn't..." Cassandra said, suddenly embarrassed. The same softness the girl wore in her face carried over to her shoulders and breasts, her belly, hips, and thighs. Her skin was smooth and oiled, smelling of light perfume. "I'm not used to bathing like this."

"Most of us bathe together. Not all at once, naturally. We take turns, in groups, to ensure that work doesn't stop in the rest of the home." She motioned for Cassandra to sit in front of her. "Kasi, that was your name, right? Salima only mentioned it quickly before sending me down here."

Cassandra nodded, but hesitated to move. The girl sighed and stood up, water running down off her legs as she moved down and sat behind Cassandra, submerging her feet back into the water until they rested to either side of Cassandra's hips. She took a small pail, dipping it into the bath before slowly pouring the warm water over Cassandra's hair. "Kasi, right. That's me. And you're..."

"Myriam. I usually look after some of the gardens, but I also make perfumes for Lady Azhar's daughter in one of the out buildings." She poured a bottle of golden-colored oil into Cassandra's hair, who sighed as it hit her scalp. Its coolness contrasted strongly to the warmth of the bath, while a sweet scent slowly surrounded her head like a cloud. Cassandra settled back, forgetting for a moment how embarrassed she was, letting her shoulders come to rest against Myriam's hips. 

The girl's touch was soothing, comforting. She wasn't Estelle-- she was too young, her hair the wrong color-- but the fingers working through her hair were a pleasant reminder of mornings spent with her former servant slowly brushing and setting her curls. Something hot stirred within her, and she scolded herself. The girl was maybe half her age, give or take a few years. It would be wildly inappropriate to think anything lewd about her. Besides, she was here for Estelle, and shouldn't distract herself with anyone else.

Nonetheless, she thought, such intimate touch from such graceful hands felt good.

Myriam's hands withdrew from her hair. She again poured water over Cassandra, washing any excess oil from her. She then donned the gloves in her basket, pouring a thick, black substance over them. "Sit forward," she said, and Cassandra complied. The grit of black soap dug into her skin, peeling away accumulated grime and dead skin that bathing on a ship simply could not strip away.

Her thoughts crept back in, despite resisting them. The servant's hands felt good on her, the heat of her arms when they wrapped around her to scrub the front of her body, the warmth of the girl's belly against her spine, made her shiver. She'd never been held so intimately, in so raw a state, and to her companion in the baths this was simply something so normal, she could go about it without even a hint of color appearing on her cheeks. She could feel Myriam's breath against her neck as she lifted Cassandra's legs up, her gloved hands stroking over her thighs from her hips down to her knees and back again, and choked down a soft cry. She would not humiliate herself like this, not in front of a girl she barely knew!

Myriam stopped, sitting back; Cassandra turned her head sharply to face her, the water around her sloshing at her sudden movement. "I'm sorry," Myriam said, hands pulled back away from Cassandra's skin. "Have I made you uncomfortable?"

"N... no!" Cassandra shook her head, too quickly, she thought after the fact. The edge of her teeth dug into her lower lip. She turned back around, looking down at her reflection in the water. "I suppose my skin is just sensitive. It's been a little while since I've bathed so thoroughly."

With a nod, Myriam continued, stepping down into the pool to help Cassandra onto her feet, continuing to scrub down the length of her legs. Breathe slow, Cassandra said, eyes closed, trying to ignore the hand on her calf, the other with its fingers wrapped around her hip, thumb resting just above the curve of her rear. Her heart thundered in her chest. Focus on that, she told herself. Focus on her breathing, of the lap of water against the edges of the pool, on the warmth of the steam rolling across the room. Focus on anything but the girl washing and caressing you!

"That's all," Myriam said, and stood back, taking the gloves from her hands. "There's a second pool of cooler water in the next room. Uou can rinse the soap from your body there." She paused, hesitating, as though ready to say something else, but left it at that.

Cassandra stepped up out of the pool, feeling out the floor under her with her feet, worried that she would slip on the tile. They were coarse in texture, she realized, and gripped her feet just enough to keep her from losing her balance. "Thank you," she said, her voice still shaking, before hurrying through the archway into the second room.

The air was cooler here, the steam subsiding as it rolled through the arch from the bath next door. She gasped as she stepped down into the water, flinching at the sudden drop in temperature, but hurried in anyway to hide herself from sight.

She looked back for a moment, curious to see if Myriam would follow her into this room. The girl was already gone, along with the basket of bathing oils, and both sets of their clothes. She sighed, both relieved and saddened to be alone again.

The water around her quickly clouded, the grime once stuck to her skin floating away from her. Had she really been that dirty, she thought, pouring handfuls of water over her shoulders and head. She thought back, trying to reflect on the weeks of travel, her weeks of solitude in her manor on top of that. The few times she'd washed after Estelle had left were half-hearted at best, mostly from the fact that she never succeeded in heating the water more than lukewarm. Between that, and being confined to a cargo ship, she must have smelled to high heaven by the time Salima found her. She cringed, and shook her head of the thought.

Now, though, she felt refreshed. Her skin looked polished and smooth, soft as she ran her hands over herself, wiping away what was left of the soap Myriam had cleansed her with. She shivered again, remembering the young girl's touch, only to quickly push the girl's presence out of mind again. She was here to reunite herself with Estelle, she reminded herself.

She stepped out of the bath, finding a towel sitting on a table in the corner, as well as benches lined against the wall, similar to the room next door where she first entered. She massaged her hair with the cloth, before working her way downward, blotting what water still stuck to her skin.

"Kasi?"

Cassandra gasped, quickly wrapping her towel around herself as she turned to find Salima entering the room. She chuckled, and laid a bundle of clothing on the bench beside her. "I've bathed with the girls plenty of times, Kasi. I doubt very much that you would shock me with anything under that towel."

"You don't know that," Cassandra said, turning up her nose.

Salima sighed, and pointed to the clothing she'd brought. "Go ahead and dress yourself, dear."

Still clutching her towel, Cassandra walked down the bench, picking up the bundle of fabric laying there. Almost as soon as she picked them up, her hands opened, dropping the set back onto the bench, head turning sharply to stare up at Salima. "These are..." she said, throat twitching, "these are..."

Salima, however, was unmoved by the rising anger in her voice. "I offered you room and board, at the price of employment. I was even frank in saying that you would be working in this household that I care for. I am the head of the servants for the Azhar household, so don't dare argue that you've been tricked."

Cassandra stared down at the clothes on the bench: a loose, white tunic, a black braided pattern sewn around the collar. A wide, fabric belt folded up on itself, and a long, ankle-length black skirt. The same clothing the home's servants were wearing. "This is just because there were no other spare clothing. That's all this is. Tell me that this is all that this is!"

"Please, calm yourself."

Cassandra scowled, hands tightening at her sides into fists. "I will not calm myself! This is outrageous! I am a Lady, an aristocrat, a member of high Angliean society! I run a business, I own a sprawling estate, I..."

"And you have none of that, here!" Cassandra cowered back as Salima stepped forward, pointing first at her, and then at the clothes discarded on the bench. The lines in her face stood out as she frowned, her body steady, unshaken, seemingly towering over Cassandra's trembling form despite being shorter. "You have come here with nothing, searching for someone you have lost! And we will all help you, but you must give back in return. This is what I ask of you. If you reject it, I will have no choice but to send you back out into the city, on your own. How important is your Estelle to you, miss? Is she important enough to give something of yourself to find her?"

Cassandra stared at the pile of clothes again. Salima's words echoed in her head, mixing with Estelle voice, her words as she stormed out of her home for good. She was selfish, self-absorbed: that was what Estelle had told her as she sat, crumpled on the porch in despair. Estelle would never allow her to approach her, not without changing herself. And becoming a servant herself, to provide the most basic care for another person, was the most direct, the most clear way to express that change.

She unwrapped the towel, laying it down on the bench, covering herself instead, piece by piece with the servant's uniform Salima had brought her. She looked up at the other woman, taking a deep breath as she tightened the belt around her waist.

Salima smiled, and opened the door back into the hallway. "Let's go, then. I'll show you around, then have you bring Lady Azhar's daughter her tea. It'll be a good chance to make a strong first impression."

"I'm not sure how I... how to go about..."

The woman rested her hand on Cassandra's shoulder, squeezing for a moment before leading Cassandra forward. "Don't worry. I'll show you what to do."

 

Dishes tinkled against one another on the silver tray, the noise deafening to Cassandra as she walked up the stairs and around the courtyard in the home's center. It was only Salima's hand constantly taking hold of hers that kept her from dropping the tray entirely. "Don't think about making a mistake," Salima said, her voice soft as her fingers laid over Cassandra's. "Think about what you must do. Do you remember what I told you, earlier?"

She did, and repeated the steps out loud. The tray would be set on the table where Lady Asima bint Azhar was enjoying some afternoon reading, and Cassandra would greet her courteously, servant to mistress. She would wash her hands with a small basin of water that was brought upstairs earlier by another of the servants. Once washed, she would set out the crystal glass and pour out the steeped tea from high above, letting the hot drink foam and brew. Once filled, sugar and mint would be stirred into the glass. She would remain until dismissed by Lady Asima, to provide her with assistance and companionship for as long as she wished.

It was nothing difficult. She had served tea for company for years. But then. she was a host, welcoming her guests into her home. Now she was little more than a house servant, offering a drink to a woman she'd never met before but nonetheless now owed her safety and security to.

"What if I spill some?" she said, eyes steady, staring straight ahead.

"Then clean it up. There's a napkin on the tray."

"What if I spill some on her?"

"Then clean it off of her."

"What if it's hot when it spills, and it burns her, and..."

"Kasi!"

The tray clattered again, Cassandra's heart skipping a beat as Salima stepped in front of her, covering her hands with her own. "You will do fine. Go in, and serve Lady Asima's tea, and keep her company until she asks you to leave. Do not speak unless prompted. Keep your attention on her at all times. That is all you have to do. There is absolutely nothing for you to worry about if you remember what I've told you."

"Right," Cassandra said, swallowing the lump that had grown in her throat. "Serve her tea, keep her company. That's all. I can do this."

The made their way to the end of the hall, through the doorway into a large room in one of the corners of the room. Inside, a grand, canopied bed dominated the center of the room, the sheer curtains drawn back and tied to the bedposts for the moment. Across the room, under one of the windows, a writing table sat with papers sorted neatly into the shelves. A heavy, wooden chest sat at the foot of the bed, draped over with a violet clothing, matching the color of the curtains draped over the bed.

Her eyes turned to the bookshelves, packed full of books. Most of the spines had titles printed in the native language of Ul-Shams, but others were in the more familiar Galian, while a few that she glimpsed as she walked by were in her own Angliean. Whomever Lady Asima was, she certainly seemed as educated as she was powerful.

Salima patted her on the shoulder once more, and stood back. "You will be alone from here. But don't worry. God-willing, you will do a fine job."

A few moments, and Salima's footsteps away later, she was alone, looking out towards the terrace and her mistress, the Lady Asima bint Azhar.

She sat out at a table on the terrace looking out over the southern end of the gardens. Beyond, the cityscape of Kasabla stretched across the length of the coastline until its southern districts met the deserts beyond. A book was opened in her hand. Every so often, she would turn the page with a finger, her attention engrossed by the text spread out under her gaze. 

She was stunning. Cassandra stood, hesitating, in front of the arches that opened onto the terrace, trying to keep her hands from shaking. The woman's long, black hair was pulled up in braids, wrapped around themselves at the back of her head. Her dark blue dress was designed with elaborate, golden designs around the collar and shoulders, flowing downward over her breasts. Fine, flowering designs spread down the length of the gown as well as along its sleeves, continuing under the red and gold trimmed belt at her waist, meeting bands of tightly woven designs at each hem.

Something struck her as familiar in the profile of the Lady's face. The curve of her cheeks, the shape of her lips, the length of her fingers as they skimmed over page after page. She was simply projecting, he told herself'. She looked enough like her Estelle that she could easily see the girl in this woman. That would not do, she told herself, and shook her head. She had a job to do, and had to focus on the person in front of her.

She stepped forward, onto the terrace, and took a deep breath. "L... Lady Asima?" she said, trying to steady the tremble in her voice on her way towards the table. "I've brought your tea, My Lady."

The woman looked up just as she finished crossing the distance between them, turning to face Cassandra. The afternoon sun cast light and shadow over her features, familiar shadows, shadows Cassandra knew from evening dinners and afternoons in the garden; from tea served by the fireplace, from the light of a setting sun against an angry stare.

Her heart raced, and she was convinced it would stop at any moment. Her lips quivered, hands shaking, until the tray dropped with a crash onto the tabletop.

Lady Asima looked across the table at her, eyes moving from the still-clattering dishes on the tray to the wide-eyed expression on Cassandra's face. She laid a length of ribbon between the pages of her book, closed it, and set it down on the table in front of her. "Is there," she said, her voice as steady as it was irritated, "a problem, young lady?"

Cassandra's throat was tight, her voice fighting against the tension in her throat to speak, while her mind tumbled over itself, struggling to find the words to send to her voice. She always knew what to say, she always knew what to do, but for once in her life, Cassandra was utterly without a response to what, to who, she saw in front of her.

Tears welled in her eyes, and the color drained from her face. "Estelle?" she said, and waited for the world to end around her.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cassandra confronts Lady Asima about her identity, but has second thoughts; meanwhile, she becomes closer to her fellow servants, and a late-night rendezvous holds nightmarish fantasies fulfilled, though they may not be as Cassandra has wanted...

The terrace was silent, save for the occasional rustle of trees brushing against themselves, or against the walls of the manor. Yet, Cassandra thought, the noise of her heart beating, of her teeth grinding down on one another, was deafening.

Lady Asima bint Azhar was Estelle! She screamed inside of her head. No, that couldn't possibly be right! She was simply imagining things, imagining the similarities, seeing her servant's expression in this woman's eyes and lips, in the way she held her head, the way she sat, perfectly posed. It was all a product of the stress of her circumstances, of the embarrassment of being pressed into service like this. She couldn't possibly be her Estelle. It couldn't be right!

"I beg your pardon?" said Lady Asima. Her brow furrowed into a scowl, her hands nonetheless laid neatly over one another in your lap. Her voice, though severe, was level and steady as she spoke. "What name did you call me by?"

"I... I'm sorry..." Cassandra said, and tried to will her hands to steady themselves. She reached for the glass on her tray-- thankfully, she hadn't managed to drop or break anything when she lost her grip!-- and set it out in front of her mistress. The silver kettle's lid clattered against the rest of the pot as she lifted it up, pouring hot tea into the woman's glass. "You... you looked like someone I knew before. It's nothing... I don't mean to be impolite."

Lady Asima broke her stare and turned her attention back to the glass, watching as Cassandra filled it. "Nonetheless, you were," she said. Cassandra spooned sugar out of a bowl, stirring it into the drink, then added a few mint leaves using the tongs laying against the dish the cool herb was kept on. "Be mindful that it doesn't happen again. As I imagine that Shamsi is not your native tongue, 'My Lady' will suffice from here on." She lifted her head, looking back at Cassandra, who struggled for the moment to keep her spoon from striking against the sides of the woman's glass. "Is that understood?"

Cassandra swallowed, and gave a slow nod. "Yes, My Lady."

Lady Asima lifted the crystal to her lips, sipping quietly at the warm drink within, and smiled in satisfaction as she set the glass down. "Properly prepared," she said as she opened her book to the page she'd left off at. "Sayidah Salima coached you well enough that even your nervousness didn't ruin it."

Cassandra smiled, though her lips still trembled. Her hands gripped one another at her waist, trying to hide how they shook. "I'm glad, My Lady."

Her mistress' attention turned back to her book. Cassandra tried to follow the print, thankful that it was, at least, not written in the curling script of the Shamsi, but in more familiar Latian print. It was Galian though, she realized with dismay. Despite her mother's best efforts to tutor her in the language, she never could make sense of it. A word or two, here and there, stood out on the page, but not enough to grasp the meaning of what occupied the other woman's mental energies.

Should she say something? Her lips parted, ready for words she considered speaking. As engrossed as Lady Asima was in her book, though, it seemed rude to interrupt her, and she'd managed to be rude enough. The scent of the tea in her glass, at least, was soothing. The mix of heat and mint started to fill her head, subduing the quake in her hands until her body was finally, at last, still.

"Do you have a name?"

Cassandra blinked, her mistress' question startling her out of her calm. Breathe, she reminded herself. Breathe, and speak softly. "Kasi," she said, the name's sound abrupt on her tongue, carved out of her given name, its initial consonant harder, clumsy as she struggled not to simply spit it out. "My name is Kasi."

"Kasi, then." Lady Asima's gave remained fixed on her book. Her gaze scanned from line to line, her attention, it seemed, easily shared between the text and Cassandra's replies. "Are you educated at all?"

Of course she was, Cassandra's voice snapped within her own head: any Lady of her station possessed a classical education, regardless of how much attention she'd given to particular subjects within her tutoring. That station though, she reminded herself, was gone now. "Yes," she said, biting her lip before continuing. "I was tutored by my mother and father, both. She was well versed in philosophy and the social sciences. My father was deeply educated in the natural sciences, with a particular love for horticulture."

This, at least, managed to raise Lady Asima's attention from her book. "Is that so? You're quite fortunate to have the blessing of such a broad education. I've been given to understand that education across the Straits was entirely focused on vocational studies, anymore."

Cassandra clenched her jaw again, her back tensing. That would have been true, she thought, if she were a common woman. "My family had some means," she said, struggling not to raise her voice. "I never had to suffer the dullness of a public school."

"A family with some means, and yet, here you are as a household servant to a Shamsi businesswoman." Lady Asima smiled, coy and incendiary, a smile that knew full well the anger it was provoking in her companion. She closed her book, holding her thumb between the pages where she'd left off. "Was it circumstance that brought you here, young lady, or did your own desires drive you to this destination?"

Cassandra's throat tensed. Only Estelle could read her like this, play her heartstrings like a violin! She remembered so clearly that conversation months before-- or was it a lifetime ago?-- over the dinner table about the nature of their delights and their consciousness. How easily Estelle was able to cut down into her conscience, to strike at the very question she was too uncomfortable to answer outright! She forced a smile, struggling to conceal how the corners of her mouth twitched from the tension pulling at the muscles throughout her body. "Fate brought me here, though I was compelled by my own desires to leave my previous home, My Lady."

The other woman's smile only grew as she drank in her response. The book was set aside entirely, Lady Asima taking a drink from her glass before cradling her tea in both hands, turning to face Cassandra. "Fate, is it? You believe in things in an unseen book, a foreknowledge of your every moment that you will never be allowed to possess?"

She was provoking her, Cassandra thought, seething. She was provoking her, and there was nothing she could do. She had no defender in this household, and was entirely at the mercy of the woman pricking her with her questions. "I believe in possibilities that I do not know for certain, but that are mine to choose."

Lady Asima laughed, a sharp, crisp sound that rang like the peal of a sugar spoon striking the crystal holding her drink. "Not just knowledgeable in the natural sciences, then, but the speculative natural sciences!" She sipped at her tea, then held the crystal out to Cassandra, who stared blankly at the offered glass. "Such amusing company Sayidah Salima has found for me, to possess such an eclectic education. Have a drink to refresh yourself, if you can keep your hands steady enough not to drop the glass."

Cassandra took the glass carefully, surprised that the drink still felt warm. Spice and mint mingled together as she breathed them in. "I'm flattered by your generosity, My Lady," she said, and raised the drink to her lips. It poured smooth over her tongue, refreshing despite its heat. 

Lady Asima's eyes were fixed on her, watching her drink. Cassandra realized how much she had drawn from the glass and stopped, thrusting the glass back towards her mistress. "I'm sorry!" she said, worried that she had crossed a line she should not have. "This is your drink. I shouldn't have so much of it for myself."

"You've done no offense against me." Lady Asima's long, slender fingers curled around the glass, taking it back from Cassandra's hands. She turned the crystal slowly as she brought it to her own mouth, resting cushioned lips in the same spot where Cassandra's mouth had rested. Cassandra felt her cheeks warm, and quickly brought a hand over her face. Her legs trembled, and she took a step back from the table. Stop embarrassing yourself, her voice scolded within her head. You're a proper lady, not some awkward, babbling schoolgirl! 

Lady Asima's dark eyelashes lay against her cheeks as she drank long from her glass, the warm liquid within flowing slowly, wave upon wave, into her mouth. At last, she set the empty glass down without a sound on her table, and turned her attention back to Cassandra. "I've enjoyed your company, Kasi, but I imagine there is plenty of things you should attend to, besides providing me with some afternoon amusement. You are free to go."

Cassandra pulled her hand away from her face and nodded, standing up straight as she backed towards the arches leading off of the terrace. "As you wish, My Lady," she said. Once she was sure that Lady Asima's attention was turned back on her reading, she scurried back through the doorway, racing through the room and out into the hall. 

~ 

There was, as Lady Asima suggested, plenty more work to occupy herself with, Cassandra realized. No sooner had she returned from rushing out of the young woman's room that she was tasked with washing the dishcloths and laundry from the kitchen. She was sent outside with a basket of the soiled linens, where an empty tub awaited her. Cassandra frowned at the empty basin and washboard, dropping the board onto the paved tiles of the courtyard behind the estate before storming off with the tub in search of a source of water.

She was halfway around the gardens when a familiar voice called to her. Ahe looked up, the snarling frown dropping from her face at the sight of Myriam tending to her flowers. "Sayidah Kasi," the young girl said, dusting the soil from her hands as she made her way between the rows of flowerbeds towards Cassandra. "You look upset."

"Where am I supposed to get water for this? And soap?" She shoved the tub towards Myriam, the girl stopping short to keep the basin from hitting her. "They bothered to get me a damn washboard, but no soap to clean anything with!"

Myriam laughed softly, and waved a hand for Cassandra to follow her back towards a shed near the exterior walls of the estate. "I believe this is where they keep the cleaning supplies. Lye, and a pole, and goat-skin gloves to keep your hands from turning raw."

Cassandra sighed in relief as they reached the shed, Myriam rummaging among the shelves inside until she returned with the implements that she'd mentioned. "There's a water pump as well, on the corner of the house closest to the servants' baths. It feeds from the same source, so the water should be good and hot for you to wash with."

"You're a god-send," Cassandra said, her face finally lightening into a smile. "I can't thank you enough."

"You looked as though you needed help. I remember being just as distressed when Sayidah Salima hired me." She walked back with Cassandra, helping her carry the tub that now held the laundry supplies.

Cassandra blinked, trying to study the girl's face and puzzle out what exactly her age was. She was definitely younger than herself, she remembered from their bath together, earlier on. "You're so young, though," she said, eyes opening wider in surprise, her eyebrows lifting up in steep arches. "How long have you been here?"

"A year or so. It was quite a big deal for me. My family is quite poor, my mother and father both working in a kitchen serving wealthy visitors from abroad when they vacation here." Cassandra blinked as Myriam's words sank in. She wondered if the girl's parents had prepared and served dishes for Eveline and her husband when they toured the country, so many months before. "When Salima came to our house and offered me work in Lady Azhar's household, I was stunned that such a powerful family wanted me to work for them!"

"I didn't realize they were that powerful," Cassandra said. It wasn't entirely true. She gathered the family was wealthy, both from Salima's mentions of their mercantile business, as well as from taking in the grandeur of their home.

Myriam, though, looked surprised at her ignorance. "Every trader, every sailor, every vendor from here to the cities of Ayran, from Hijaz to Ruum, know Lady Azhar Malika Abdahad's name!" The name of Lady Asima's mother rolled off of the girl's lips with the utmost respect, as though it were something to be uttered only under the most serious of circumstances. "She's as generous as she is cunning; I've heard said that she would extend you an offer of employment with her only moments after taking your business out from under you, and pay you twice what you paid yourself."

Eveline and Violette's empires seemed pitifully small by comparison. Her own trade, questionable as it was in its nature, was hardly a drop in the bucket next to the vast commercial dominion of her employer. Cassandra set her tub down by the pump, and pushed her sleeves back, groaning as she lifted, then forced down, the handle. "She sounds extraordinary," Cassandra said, as breathless from Myriam's story as she was from struggling with the pump.

"She is," the girl said. "Move over a bit, I'll help you, if you're having trouble. It's a bit of an old pump."

The two stood shoulder-to-shoulder, Cassandra too focused on trying to make the pump move to notice their arms brushing together. Myriam's sleeves were pushed back too, and despite her efforts, bits of soil still clung under and around her fingernails. "You can imagine her surprise, then," Myriam continued, voice straining a bit, "how surprised she was when her daughter, Lady Asima, decided to go wandering off across the Central Sea a few years ago, with hardly any money in her purse."

"Wandering off?" Cassandra blinked. "What do you mean?"

"A long while back, or so I'm told. I was hardly more than a few years old at the time, myself," Myriam said. The pump finally groaned, and water flowed out into the basin, running faster the more they continued to work the mechanical arm. "Lady Asima packed up a few things, and said that she was going to travel across the countries of Eryib, to the north. The countries that you're from, I would imagine by your looks, Kasi."

A chill ran through Cassandra. A Shamsi woman, leaving her homeland behind, venturing out into the world. When had she first met Estelle, she asked herself? It was maybe a decade ago. Neither of them were much past the age of majority at the time. If Myriam was as old as she, herself, was when she first met Estelle... "Why would she do that? Why would she leave behind everything her mother has here?"

"I'm not really sure," Myriam said. "As I told you, I was only a little girl myself at the time. Her siblings were outraged, though, and only more so when Lady Azhar allowed her to leave. She's only come back in the past month or two, and its reignited quite a bit of ugliness within the family."

Cassandra stopped, causing Myriam to nearly fall onto the pump handle. It couldn't possibly be right, she thought. staring into space with horror in her eyes. Lady Asima left this country not terribly long before she met Estelle, and now-- in the same space of time that Estelle abandoned her-- the daughter of Azhar Malika has returned to her family to readopt her former role here. They were both lean women with enigmatic faces that only gave away as much feeling as they were willing to show. Both possessed hair as dark as the night sky in the wilderness, both knew a way around words that could make any sentence into a sharpened knife. 

She was reading too much into things. It was just coincidence. Lady Asima was not Estelle, she assured herself against the nagging uncertainty in the back of her mind. It was all simply coincidence.

She finally took notice of Myriam bent over the pump handle, catching her breath. She helped the girl stand back up again, swearing under her breath for getting so lost in her own thoughts. "I'm sorry!" she said, dusting flakes of rust from the bottom of Myriam's tunic. "My mind wandered off on me. You're not hurt, are you?"

Myriam shook her head. "A bit sore, but nothing more than that." She looked over to the tub, now half-filled with water, steaming hovering over its surface. "I'll help you get it back over to the laundry basket for you, though you're on your own after that. I should really back to gathering flowers before I end up sitting up late enough for the mid-night prayers finishing perfumes!"

Cassandra nodded. They each took hold of one of the rope handles on either end of the tub. "We'll take it slow," Myriam said, looking at her from the other side. "It's much heavier now, and my arms don't have much of any strength in them."

Cassandra looked down at her own arms, soft and unblemished, and laughed. "Neither do I. Let's get going, then."

~ 

Thankfully, she was not responsible for serving dinner that night. Which was for the best anyway, as  the sky was already dark by the time she'd finished hanging the kitchen's laundry out to dry. From around the far corner of the house, she could hear the rise and fall of conversation in Shamsi, voices peaking, then rushing into one another before subsiding to allow someone else to speak, from the open courtyard in the center of the home. She paused for a moment, looking out through a window. A table had been set beside the fountain, low to the ground, with who she could only assume were the members of Lady Azhar's family gathered around for dinner under the light of lanterns and the moon.

Most had their backs to her, including, as far as she could tell, Lady Asima. Part of her wondered about the conversation that circulated around the table. She knew too little to understand if the rise and fall of their words corresponded the same way with the emotions she associated with similar tones of voice in Angliean.

The one face she could see clearly was that of the matriarch herself, Azhar Malika. Her hair must have been as dark as her daughter Asima's once, but age and the sun had faded it to a shade of its former luster. It did little to diminish how beautiful, how imperial, the woman looked, though. She sat as upright as a column, her eyes moving between her children conversing around her. Her mouth only moved to occasionally place a date inside, or to drink from her glass.

For a moment, Cassandra swore that her eyes looked up, away from the table, across the courtyard at herself. She choked back a gasp and darted down the hallway towards the servant's wing of the manor, trying not to think of how a woman as powerful as herself might think of the foreign girl in her employ.

The household's servants dined inside. Those that weren't already busy with attending to their employers' dinner were already eating, while the rest would gather for their meal later that evening. Cassandra entered into their dining room, where a crowd of other servants sat around two tables, chattering among themselves as she opened the door.

The conversations stopped, and she froze: nearly two dozen women looked up at her. "I'm sorry," she said, shrinking back into the doorway. "If there's too many in here, I'll come back when..."

Salima spotted her from across the room, waving for Cassandra to join her at the table at the far end of the room. "No, no, come in here. You've worked yourself all afternoon and evening. Come, sit down and eat!"

The chatter in the room slowly started back up again as Cassandra made her way across the room. A cushion across the table from Salima was open. She could see Myriam, too, who waved after quickly swallowing down a bite of her kebab. A girl closer to her own age, with brown hair and pointed, boyish jaw, leaned to one side to have a good look up at Cassandra as she sat down. She arched one eyebrow up over her golden-brown eyes, an amused smile on her face. "You're a new face," she said, pointing an empty skewer at Cassandra. "In every sense of the word. What shore did Salima find you washed up on?"

"From the back alley behind a brothel, by the look of her hair," another girl, seated next to Salima, said with a snort.

The head servant frowned, and struck the girl beside her's cheek with the back of her fingers. "Mind your manners!" Salima said, the girl she slapped nearly dropping the glass of tea that she'd just picked up. "And I won't have you talking like that behind your back, or I'll make sure you get an earful from the imamah tomorrow!"

"Should I wear it differently?" Cassandra said, holding a lock of her hair. She'd worn it down since setting off away from Angliea. It was a tangled mess until she bathed earlier that day, but she'd been too busy being taken from room to room by Salima to have a moment to put it up and out of her way. "I don't mean to be rude. I just don't really know the customs here."

"You're fine. Just ignore Sabiha," said the girl who'd pointed her skewer at her. She reached to the center of table, grabbing a pair of kebabs that she put on the plate in front of Cassandra, who simply watched as she proceeded to load slices of fruit, dates, a few pieces of flatbread and a spoonful of the porridge-like spread-- hummus, that was what the girl in the marketplace called it, she reminded herself-- onto her plate. "You'll want to eat the bread and hummus in between bites of lamb. Your tongue will get too hot otherwise."

"You had to go and spoil it," said the girl to Cassandra's other side. She pouted, her doll-like face comical as she looked around Cassandra's front to the servant seated on the other side. "I was going to get a good laugh when she started fanning her mouth!"

The rest of the table laughed, which only grew louder when the brunette prodded the doll-faced girl's hands with the flat end of her skewer. "I've had hot foods!" Cassandra said, narrowing her eyes at the both of them. "Angliean palettes are not as dull as you think they are!"

"I'm sure, I'm sure," the brunette said, taking a drink of her tea to subdue her laughter. "Would you pour her some tea, Dalal? You're closer to all of it than I am."

"If you ever leave here, Zaiah," said Salima, nodding to the woman who'd served Cassandra's food, "you ought to open a restaurant. You're always insistent on both feeding people, and telling people how to go about serving that food."

Zaiah smirked. "You make it sound like it's a terrible thing to take charge."

"I don't think she is," Cassandra said, looking up from the kebab she was still figuring out how to approach eating. "You seem to me like you'd be good to take up Miss Salima's job, some day."

Myriam giggled, helping herself to a few more of the honey-glazed almonds on one of the dishes at the table's center. "I think Sayidah Salima was trying to be subtle, Kasi."

The others laughed again, Cassandra crossing her arms and staring pointedly across the table towards her friend. "I'm perfectly good at observing subtleties," she said. "I just felt the matter should not be left unsaid."

"Quit trying to suck up," Sabiha said, finishing her tea with a frown. "You're embarrassing yourself."

"And you've earned yourself laundry duty tomorrow morning," Salima added quickly, her announcement causing Sabiha to drop her glass on the table. "I've had enough of your sour attitude for one day, young lady!"

Cassandra joined in the laughter this time, stopping only to dig into the food she'd been offered. Her stomach growled, furious at her from exhaustion and the smell of people's meals. She decided to throw all fear of poor technique to the side in favor of simply biting down into the lamb and peppers speared onto the kebab.

The meat's sweetness hit her tongue first, only to be overwhelmed a split second later by the firey bite of the spices and peppers that supplemented them. Her eyes bugged over her cheeks, dropping the skewer to her plate with a bang as she lunged forward, one hand grabbing for her tea, while the other dug flatbread into her hummus like a spoon.

"She's learning already," Zaiah said, patting Cassandra on the back as she guzzled down mouthfuls of her drink before looking to Dalal. "See? You got to see her burn up, regardless."

~ 

Cassandra and her companions were some of the last to leave the dining room. Zaiah, Dalal, and Sabiha stayed with her to help set out food for the servants returning from looking after dinner for Lady Azhar and her family. Myriam excused herself to finish with her perfumes-- "I need to sleep at some point, tonight!" she said before hurrying off-- while Salima left to meet personally with the Lady of the House, herself.

Once the rest of the servants had sat down to their dinner, the four shuttled the soiled dishes into what served as a scullery. Cassandra and Sabiha were charged with ferrying hot water from the pumps into the sinks, while Zaiah gathered up soft soap, brushes and rags, and Dalal set to work scouring what was left of the honey dishes clean of the sticky, sweet film from their surfaces.

Cassandra was hesitant to stick her arms down into the soapy water. The collision of a dozen different scents assaulted her nose, and the water in the sink quickly came to look more foul than the muddy waters that filled the Tyems. Zaiah had little patience for her squeemishness, though, and splashed her rag-wringing hands into the water before marching to the other end of the room to grab more dishes.

They were just finishing as Salima entered, the four women lined up at the sink singing to one another. At least, that was what they intended. The noise that fell on Salima's ears sounded more like three discordant voices trying to lead a fourth through words she kept stumbling over. "Maybe you should teach her basic Shamsi," Salima said over their voices, "before trying to teach her poetry!"

The four turned at the same time, water splashing as they dropped their washcloths. "Everything's looking done, very good," Salima continued, and walked into the room. "Kasi, I appreciate your earnestness for your work, but I'm afraid I must call you off elsewhere."

Cassandra blinked. "Elsewhere? Is there something else you need me to do?"

"Of a sort. Lady Asima stopped me on my way from her mother's room, and asked that I fetch you and send you to her as soon as I was able." Salima seemed as baffled by the instruction as the rest of them were, but she remained as serious as she was when they first met, unfazed by the curious request. "Go and wash the soap from your hands. Lady Asima's told me that she's sent a change of clothes down to your room, the one right across from Dalal's, remember?"

Cassandra's three companions looked among themselves, exchanging looks that would otherwise be whispers, if Salima weren't around to hear them. "I'll go and change, then," Cassandra said, stepping away from the sinks. She looked back to the others, shaking her head. "Sorry. I'll speak to all of you, later."

The last she saw of them as Salima ushered away from the room was Zaiah leaning down towards the other two, whispering something to them that she could not hear. They were completely gone from sight, though, before she could see their reaction.

~ 

Cassandra felt almost naked as she approached Lady Asima's room. The gown that had been set down for her was thin, and only a slightly thicker layer of cotton underneath kept her skin from showing bare for anyone to see. The feel of her feet on the tiled floors was still something she wasn't used to, as well, though the cool smoothness under her bare feet, combined with the evening breeze circulating around the home's inner courtyard, was a relief after the dry, stifling heat of the mid-day sun.

She opened the door, and started to speak, only to hear the young woman inside the room call out to her, first. "Come and sit with me, Kasi," said Lady Asima.

Cassandra eased into the room, pushing the door closed behind her. She was struck at once by Lady Asima's beauty. Her hair was taken down, draping onto her shoulders and spilling down her back. A hint of moonlight caught on her eyes, sparkling there until the woman lifted her head to watch Cassandra approach. She sat, cross-legged on a pillow, a low table and tea set laid out, with a delicate, china cup sitting ready for each of them. Lady Asima's gown was much like her own, simple and light, the bottom drawn up to her knees from the way she sat, with the extra material pooling together between them. The smell of something fragrant filled the air over the table.

What was the meaning of this? There was something strangely intimate about this invitation, and she wasn't sure how to take it. Did the young woman have some styling on her? She bit her lip, standing before the pillow arranged across from her mistress. That was ridiculous. Only she was foolish enough to lust after her own servant. Someone as sophisticated as a member of a prominent family like this would never dare such a thing.

"Have you gone deaf?" Lady Asima gestured to the open pillow in front of Cassandra. "I asked for you to sit with me."

"I'm sorry, My Lady." Cassandra quickly set herself down, pulling and adjusting her gown to keep it from tangling around her legs. "I wasn't expecting your invitation like this."

Lady Asima nodded, and poured a cup of the sweet, flowery tea into Cassandra's cup. "I've gathered that you've been having some difficulty adapting to your new position. I thought that, as your employer, I might offer you something to help you relax on your first evening in our home."

The scent was soothing, Cassandra thought to herself. She had to fight with her eyes to keep them from drooping closed. "That's very kind of you, My Lady. Thank you."

"It's only a small thing," Lady Asima said, and smiled. "Consider it my apology for any difficulty you've had today. I hope that your days here will grow easier, the longer that you stay."

Cassandra nodded and took the cup in both hands, sipping on the unsweetened drink. It tasted as soothing as it smelled, leaving the impression of lavender on her tongue. "I have also heard," Lady Asima continued, sipping on her own tea, "that you came to this country to find someone who parted ways with you. Have I heard correctly?"

Cassandra blinked. Salima must have explained the details of her story to the young woman. Her hands cradled her teacup, what nervousness she otherwise felt melting away from the heat that radiated through her from her belly. "That is true, My Lady. I came here to look for a woman I knew in Angliea. She worked in my household, and I was very fond of her. But we came to a deep-- I would almost say an irrevocable-- disagreement, and we parted ways."

She kept drinking from her cup between sentences, the words coming more easily with every drink, as though the heat were loosening them from her mind. "I spent weeks in despair, until a friend of mine convinced me to follow after her, back to her homeland. So I stowed illegally upon a cargo ship, and traveled here with only her name and no knowledge of where she may have gone after landing on the docks."

Cassandra looked down at her cup, surprised to find it empty. Had she really drank all of it, already? She hadn't seemed so thirsty, more than a moment ago. "When Salima found me in a plaza after the afternoon prayers, she told me that someone in your household might be able to help me, and that she could provide me with food and board, if I would work in your home. And I wasn't really prepared for what that meant and I got angry with her, but I realized..."

Her throat tensed, and for a moment, her vision seemed to blur. She'd gone from feeling nervous, to feeling light-headed. Had she drunk her tea too fast that the warmth was making her swoon? It'd never happened before; then again, it'd been years since she had been under as much stress as she had that day. "I realized that if she was ever going to forgive me, I had to do something drastic. And for an aristocrat like myself to work as a servant... I mean, that is about as drastic a change as I can imagine."

Lady Asima leaned forward, the corners of her mouth turning upward into the slightest of smiles, her lips stretched thin, her cheeks riding up just under her eyes. "It is a very drastic change, I will give you that much. What was this woman's name? Perhaps I know her."

Cassandra laughed, which sent the world into a haze again. She put a hand over her eyes, breathing deep, trying to clear the fog settling into her head. "Her name? That's the funniest thing, actually. When I first saw you, this afternoon, I thought for a moment... because of your face, how it looked in the light; I thought you were Estelle!" She laughed again, Lady Asima's face blurring as she felt her own body sway under her. "And that just seemed... I thought it was so absurd, and I held my tongue when you asked me what I'd said, because why... why would the daughter of... why would someone so rich, and so powerful, want to be... want to..."

"Want to be what?" asked Lady Asima, though Cassandra could no longer see her clearly.

Cassandra smiled and laid a hand against her cheek, her own skin hot to the touch. She felt so strange, like her entire body were liquid, were like the honey that sweetened the nuts her and the other servants-- the other servants, like herself, she thought!-- had finished their meal with earlier. "That someone like you would ever want to serve someone as desperate as me!"

The words had just left her mouth when the whole room seemed to spin around her, her bones losing all rigidness. She gasped, or at least she thought she heard herself do so, and fell sideways, her last sight as her eyes closed that of Lady Asima-- or was it Estelle?-- gazing down at her, her fingers resting against her lips.

~ 

She awoke on silk and linen sheets, gasping as she startled awake. The bedding beneath her was cool, and she could feel its sleek texture all down her back and legs. Her head still swam, and her vision a fog at best. Cassandra turned on her side, and pressed her hand against her face. What happened? She groaned, and shook her head. She must have fainted; she was entirely unused to the volume and strain of work that she'd accomplished in a single afternoon, and her overworked body had finally caught back up to her.

How humiliating, to faint in front of her employer like that! She was sure, on top of the embarrassment of swooning as she had, that she'd said something that was inappropriate for the situation. What it was, though, was as lost to her as a clear view of her surroundings.

On top of that, she realized as she set her hands behind herself and forced herself to sit up, she was naked. The gown she'd worn into the room was gone, and as was as nude as the day she'd been born. Had Lady Asima removed it from her, trying to help her cool back down out of her faint? Or had she done something even more absurd before losing consciousness than her limited memory could recall at that moment?

Her vision, at least, was finally starting to clear. Whatever surface she was laying on was massive, and seemed to stretch out endlessly in all directions. Towering curtains of semi-sheer material hung all around, and a figure in shadow from the light shining behind it moved closer, and it was the sight of this that sent an absolute chill through her blood.

No, Cassandra thought, drawing her knees up to her chest. This wasn't what she thought it was. It simply could not be.

The sheer wall of fabric rippled, bunching against itself as a massive hand pushed it aside. The silhouette behind it resolved itself into Lady Asima, rising up like a sheer, vertical mountain at her own bedside. Her head seemed as far away as the moon. The woman raised one knee up onto the bed and laid herself down slowly across its breadth.

She'd been shrunk, made small, no different than the delights she raised back home in Angliea. Cassandra's mind raced backward, while at the same time screaming at her body to get up onto its feet. The tea! It must have been that, must have been the strangely alluring drink that she'd consumed so quickly. How would anyone else have that knowledge, though? It was confined to the book at her manor, as far as she knew, a handwritten tome centuries old, and that book was most assuredly still in its place! Her legs shook, her muscles soft like gelatin as she tried to step backwards away from the living wall of her mistress' body laying on her side.

"Oh, Cassandra," Lady Asima said, her arm rising up, extending itself towards Cassandra, who screamed and fell onto her back. How did she know my name, my real name? The hand hovered over her, its fingers delicately plucking Cassandra's arm off the sheets before lifting her miniature form into the air. "How far, exactly, did you expect to get at that size?"

Cassandra shivered as Lady Asima sat up, transferring Cassandra from one hand to the other, her fingers wrapped tight around her like a snake encircling its prey. Despite the heat of the woman's skin pressing in on her from all directions, she felt chilled from head to toe. "What?" struggled to fill her lungs with air, to slow her breathing enough to keep from fainting again. "What have you done to me?"

"Don't you recognize that magic? We both used the spell more than enough times, though I admit, it is a bit of a variation." Lady Asima grinned, shifting her legs and hips around until they stretched out ahead of her, her nightgown bunch up on one side until it was just below her hip. The expanse of taunt, brown skin was no distraction though for Cassandra, whose attention was locked on the other woman's face. "Surely, you're starting to figure things out, now. Some recess of your mind already has, in fact."

Cassandra's mouth hung open. "Estelle?"

The woman laughed, and held her closer. Cassandra winced as the crystalline sharpness of the sound beat upon her ears. "Estelle Asima bint Azhar," she said, reaching out with a finger on her free hand to play with the curls in Cassandra's hair. "My grandfather on my father's side was Galian, and made it clear that his children should have names of both heritages. Relying on my more Continental name while I was abroad made it easier for me to travel around without too many pointed stares directed at me."

"But why?" Cassandra's mind felt as though it were spinning like a top. "Why would you... why wouldn't you? I called you by name, and you wouldn't..."

"You couldn't bother to come to me openly-- even if your pseudonym wasn't particularly creative. Why should I have been more open to you than you were to me?" Estelle raised her eyebrows at her own question, prodding Cassandra's bare belly with a jab of her finger before closing her fingers back over it. "Plus, to be honest, I wanted to play with you a bit. It's precious to watch you fit into your new role."

"This isn't a game, Estelle!" Cassandra thrashed in the woman's grip, only to feel the breath pushed from her lungs as those same digits tightened around her. "I made myself a fugitive because I couldn't stand having lost you for any longer! I was going out of my mind!"

Estelle nodded slowly. "I see that Violette hasn't taken too kindly to your little murderous stunt? Did you really just expect her to sit by and do nothing in retaliation? You deserve the full wrath of the law. I ought to ship you back to Angliea in a cage, and drop you on Lady Wilemere's doorstep."

Cassandra grit her teeth. "You deserve it as much as I do! You were my accomplice!"

"And unlike you, darling, I am not a citizen of Her Majesty's empire. Even if I were, the law would disregard it. I was a servant simply following orders, as far as your country's laws are concerned. You would be left alone to bear full responsibility for what you've done. The most they could do is prohibit me from entering the country. Which, while it would stifle my family's business somewhat, would be no harm done to me."

Cassandra mustered the strength to scream. The cry, though, died halfway out of her throat, her collar and chin collapsing against Estelle's finger as she crumpled over in exhaustion. 

"Honestly, you should be pleased by this turn of events, 'Kasi'." Estelle said the name with a laugh, and loosened her hold on Cassandra, transferring her between hands again, holding her waist between thumb and forefinger. "Isn't this what you wanted? What you dreamed about, back home? To be my delight to enjoy?"

"Estelle!" Cassandra felt her throat tighten, swore she could feel the color drain from her face. Her eyes stared straight ahead at Estelle's lips, which were coming closer, closer. "You can't be serious. Those were... those were nightmares, twisted flights of fantasy! Estelle, please!"

"Oh, but you were so insistent on wanting to know." Estelle's tongue peeked out from her mouth, its tip gliding over ruddy red lips as plush as pillows to Cassandra. The briefest flash of teeth showed for a moment before her mouth sealed shut, a veneer of gloss painted across its rounded surfaces. "I remember that night, don't you? The night you held me mouth open and forced me to swallow delight after delight, watching them lay within my mouth..."

"Estelle, stop!" She twisted and swayed, her skin grinding against the pincer-like hold Estelle's fingers had on her. She had to get loose, she told herself, had to fall and land on top of Estelle, had to roll onto the bed and run, and figure out a way to hide where her servant-turned-mistress couldn't get to her. She lacked the strength, though, to push Estelle's fingers apart to slip through. "Please, don't do this!"

"That's what you wanted, wasn't it? To see it for yourself, to see what they saw? To know what it would be, to be food for my body?" She dangled mere inches in front of Estelle's face, every blast of the woman's breath beating against her tiny body as she was held before it. "That's what you dreamed about, that's what you violated that very body, my very being, to know, wasn't it?"

Tears rolled down over Cassandra's cheeks, dripping downward, so far downward, towards the woman spread out beneath her. "I don't really want this," Cassandra said, voice trembling, throat tight as she pushed the words out her mouth. She sounded like a mouse, a cornered mouse, which seemed poignantly, nightmarishly fitting. "Please, Estelle, I don't want this at all!"

"Maybe you don't, now that you're confronted with the reality of it." Estelle lowered Cassandra down, holding her in front of her mouth, her lips parting just enough to puff a burst of hot breath against her catch's body. "But do you know something? I'm starting to think that I want it for myself, now."

"Estelle!"

The woman's mouth opened, her tongue rose from inside and reached out over her lips. Cassandra shivered, realizing the thick heat of Estelle's body as the muscle made contact with her skin. It trailed slow, deliberate in its path up her legs and belly, saliva covering her like glazed sugar as it spread over her. Estelle's finger moved over her ribs and onto her back, tipping her body forward until Casandra's head and breasts lay flat against the top of her tongue.

Horror flooded through Cassandra as she looked out over the gently arcing plain laid out before her. Estelle's tongue pulled her in, her lips closing around her waist, the cavern of her mouth dim and hot. Each breath of humid air felt like syrup she struggled to pull down into her lungs. Cassandra cried out, and heard her voice echo backwards until it disappeared over the back of her tongue and down the other woman's throat.

She felt lips and the edge of teeth at her back, pressing down against her skin, while Estelle's voice mocked her within her head. Wasn't this what she wanted, it reminded her; isn't this what you fantasized about, what you touched yourself thinking about? The tongue curled beneath her, pressing her breasts together on themselves, squeezing her arms against her sides, her belly flattening against Estelle's tastebuds. The length of the muscle stroked against her hips and the front of her thighs, slowly, drinking in every nuance of the flavor of her body. You would have begged for this, only months before. Why reject it, why recoil from it now?

She gasped as Estelle slid her further inside, her body dragging over the tongue she rode upon. No, she screamed back at the voice laughing in her head, she didn't want it, not like this! Estelle's throat seemed to gape wide at her, stretching open. She could see over the back of her tongue, down into her throat, her voice box fluttering at every breath, while her throat waited to open up and swallow her down in one, slippery bite.

She finally found command of her arms and held them out, digging her palms into Estelle's tongue. Laughter rang around her ears, and the muscle beneath her rose up quickly, pressing her back into the roof of her mouth. Cassandra screamed, only to have the sound cut off as the wind was knocked from her lungs. Her vision swam, blurring for a moment. When it recovered, she was staring down the length of Estelle's mouth, Her windpipe had closed itself up, a long, black tunnel opening before her, ready to accept her into her final home within the belly of the woman she longed for.

"Please," she said, shaking her head. Cassandra's tears splashed against Estelle's tongue. Her feet were gripped tight between Estelle's lips, the only things keeping from from slipping away into oblivion. Her own heart pounded within her, deafening in her ears. "Estelle, please! Don't do this!"

Light flooded in around her, the pressure at her ankles tightening as she was dragged back out over Estelle's tongue and out of her mouth. She dangled in the air, gasping for cool breath-- that only moments before, she couldn't imagine anything being as hot and stifling as Estelle's mouth proved to be!-- hanging upside-down in front of her former companion.

"Oh, so that wasn't what you wanted?" Estelle said, smiling coyly at her, though her eyes told a different story. They were steady, cold, and piercing in their gaze upon the woman held between her fingers. "Was the reality much less pleasant than the dream?"

Cassandra nodded, her body shivering. She was soaked with Estelle's saliva, which made the night air of Kasabla all the colder. She watched as Estelle reached for a cloth laying on a bedside table, which she then used to carefully dry Cassandra's skin.

"You have so much to learn, my dear, foolish Cassandra." Estelle said, and laid Cassandra out in her palm. Cassandra curled together, bringing her knees up to her chest, her eyes still wet with tears. "But I will see to it that your lessons are complete, and when all is done, I have hopes that you will be a very different woman than the one I met, all those years ago."

Cassandra closed her eyes. She didn't care what Estelle had to say, or what she had in store. All she wanted then was to shut the image of Estelle's throat opening before her from her mind, and keep it from haunting her every night's sleep.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cassandra wakes to face her future, and grapples with just what her feelings for Estelle are, exactly...

"Kasi! Wake up!"

Cassandra bolted awake, her body suddenly remembering to breathe as she bolted upright. She clutched her bedsheet to her breastbone, and looked around to find that she was in her room: small, simple, devoid of any furnishings beside the bed itself, a small table beside it, and a wardrobe hardly wider than she was. It was her room, though, and not Estelle's, and she was her normal size again, no longer small enough to fit within her mistress' mouth.

What happened last night? She looked down at herself, staring at the rise and fall of her chest as it slowed into a regular rhythm. For a moment, she wondered if she dreamed up the entire thing: Estelle teasing her, threatening to swallow her up alive, only to pull her captive free of her hungry mouth at the last moment. No; the memory, the sight of Estelle's throat, was too vividly burned into her mind. There was no way it was just some figment of her imagination, as she could remember it all so clearly!

"Kasi!"

Her bedroom door rattled on its hinges. She looked towards it, still covering herself despite her being alone in the room. "Kasi, I need to have you up, now! You are serving breakfast this morning!"

She grimaced. Estelle undoubtedly made sure that her duties would require her to be up at the earliest hour after keeping her up all night with her games. How long had she spent with the young woman's lips wrapped around her waist, her legs, toying with her as though she were some sugary confection? It was simply the two of them, alone in Estelle's bedroom, with nothing to indicate the time of night, or when she'd finally lost consciousness. Perhaps, she chided herself as she urged her body out of bed, it was all just a dream brought on by the stress of the past day. She'd simply imagined it.

No! She shook her head, shuffling barefoot and naked across the room to her wardrobe, where several tunics and skirts, all the same as the one she'd worn the day before, waited for her to wear. "Kasi, I am bringing some wash water in for you..."

Cassandra shrieked and grabbed for the bedsheet, holding it in front of herself as Salima entered the room. "I will never understand what you think the problem is," the elder woman said, shaking her head as she laid a bowl of water on the table at Cassandra's bedside. "Do you know how many of the other girls I've seen undressed in the baths?"

Cassandra's throat twitched. "It's... it's indecent. Just standing around in the nude like that, where everyone can see you."

"Like you've got anything to hide." Salima rolled her eyes and walked back to the door. "Hurry up and wash your face, feet, and hands. I'll be joining the other servants for the dawn prayer, but I expect you to be in the kitchen, waiting for me, by the time we finish."

"Yes, ma'am."

Salima pointed a finger at her, her other hand grabbing the door knob. "And don't make me come and fetch you out of bed like this again. It's not my fault if you were up all night. It'll be your fault, though, if you're late with your responsibilities."

Cassandra sighed, and nodded. "Yes, ma'am."

It was only once the door closed again that Cassandra tossed her sheet back onto the bed. She rose and walked over to the bowl left on the table. What would happen now? She sat down, frowning at her reflection on the water's surface. She'd found her Estelle, but at this rate, she would never return back home with the other woman at her side.

There was no delaying it, though. She plunged her hand into the water, wincing at the cold,  before splashing the liquid against her eyes. She was a servant, now, and there was work to be done in her employer's home.

~ 

She was not first into the kitchen-- Zaiah managed to make it there first-- but she was, at least, there before Salima set foot in the room. The tall, strong-armed woman who'd loaded her plate the night before took in the circles under her eyes and pointed towards a complicated-looking coffee pot. "I think I can trust you to be awake enough to brew coffee. Just try not to burn yourself."

Cassandra frowned. "I'm awake."

"You don't look it."

Grinding the beans down was simple enough. They simply had to be pulverized into the finest powder she could manage. She finished that much by the time Salima entered the kitchen. "Oh, by God!" the elder woman shouted across the room at Zaiah. "You put her in charge of the coffee?"

Zaiah held up the knife she was using to slice fruit. "Would you rather she risk chopping off her fingers?"

Salima waved a hand dismissively at Zaiah, who resumed chopping as the head servant turned her attention back to Cassandra. "Lady Azhar is very particular about her coffee. You'll want to make a good impression with her... do you even know how to make Turkish coffee, young lady?"

Cassandra had gotten lost in staring at the tools set in front of her. There were small pots, and spoons, and none of it was familiar to her. "You don't have a percolator..."

"Bah! No one drinks that garbage here, not even foreigners." Salima pointed at one of the pots. "Fill it with cold water, heat it without boiling it, and then add the coffee, sugar, and cardamon. Don't look at me like that, it's the stuff in this jar!" She shook the jar in front of Cassandra's face before setting it back on the counter. "Stir it all thoroughly, then heat it good and slow."

"And then serve it?" Cassandra said, pointing to the tray of tiny cups waiting further down the table.

"No," Salima said, swatting her hand at Cassandra's, who was already reaching for the pot. "Then you pull it from the heat, and let it rest a short time. Then heat it back up..."

Cassandra raised an eyebrow, and pointed at the cups. "And then serve it?"

"Don't be so impatient!" Her hand, this time, struck the back of Cassandra's head, hardly more than a tap, but enough to bow her head for a moment. "No; you cool it again, and heat it a third time, right up to the point before it boils, same as the first two times. And then," she said, emphasizing her words by pointing down the counter at the cups, "you serve it."

Cassandra sighed. The whole process seemed extraordinarily complicated, and utterly prone to going awry in unskilled hands like her own. And it was the favorite drink of Estelle's mother, one of the wealthiest women on this side of the Great Central Sea! She forced a smile, though, for Salima's sake. "I'll give it my best."

"I hope you will." She clapped her hands, startling the still-drowsy Cassandra as she turned her attention to the others setting about their work in the kitchen. "All of you, on with it! Get to work!"

~

Breakfast was in the courtyard at the house's center; the riad, Salima had called it. Just as it had been at dinner, a table was set by the fountain, with low, cushioned sets placed for everyone to settle upon. The table was occupied solely by the ladies of the household. Lady Azhar's husband, Myriam told her, had taken their youngest child, and only son, into town for his lessons and would join his spouse for a meal together later that morning.

Cassandra paused for a moment at the doorway, watching the three women seated at the table. Lady Azhar looked as imperial as she had the night before, her hair drawn back in two drapes from behind her ears to the back of her head, where it fell in a tight, ash-colored waterfall behind her. Her hands were folded on the table in front of her, her eyes moving between the two younger woman seated across from her as the three of them conversed.

One of her daughters, naturally, was Estelle. Or Lady Asima, or whatever her name truly was, Cassandra thought to herself. She was all smiles this morning, which only served to remind her of her own exhaustion. Clearly, she was well rested! Cassandra grit her teeth, and watched her mistress nibble politely on a bit of honey-glazed doughnut whenever the conversation shifted away from her.

The girl beside her was unfamiliar. Cassandra assumed she was some sibling of Estelle's, a little younger than the woman she was more familiar with. Her hands and cheeks were softer, fuller, than the sharp-cut lines of Estelle's jaw and nose, the lean muscle of her former servant's limbs. That aside, the two of them looked very much alike, similar in complexion, in the dark shine of their hair, though the younger girl was more animated in her body language, often gesturing in bold thrusts and sweeps of her hands over the table top as she spoke. 

She breathed deep, and stepped through the threshold into the courtyard. They were having dessert, after all, and would want their coffee to go with it.

She walked past Estelle, trying with all willpower to avoid turning her head to look at her, even as she felt Estelle's eyes watching her walk in careful, measured steps across the stones set into the ground.

"...and Sayidah Imani kept insisting, insisting, that I meet her son." The younger of the girls sitting with Lady Azhar was speaking as she approached, her hand striking lightly at the table to punctuate the repetition of her words. "I've seen Kayden playing in the park outside of the boy's school, or sitting, rather, his head stuck up in a cloud daydreaming while the others are playing."

"A reflective husband would be a valuable compliment to someone as boisterous as yourself," Lady Azhar said, her eyes looking up briefly from her water to meet her younger daughter's gaze.

The girl blushed, leaning back away from the table. "Husband! I've never even met him face to face."

Lady Azhar sighed. "I will speak to Sayidah Imani and arrange a meeting between the two of you."

"That's not what I...!"

Estelle looked sideways at her sister. "Don't try to contradict your mother." She used the same tone with her sister that she used to take with Cassandra, whenever Estelle objected to her behavior. Cassandra stopped for a moment, breathing deeply, sucking air deep into her lungs, trying to keep her attitude from showing on her face. All this time! Something angry vibrated in Cassandra's body. All this time, she talked to her like nothing more than an stubborn little girl! The tray rattled in her hands, and she cursed under her breath, commanding her limbs to hold steady.

"Ah, I see our coffee has arrived."

Cassandra's mind emptied of every thought, and felt Lady Azhar's gaze fall on her. She was deaf to everything else but the woman's voice, and the beat of her heart in her chest. She took slow, steady steps forward, until she stood at the table's side, facing the Lady of the House first. "Y... your coffee, my Lady," she said, throat tense as the words stumbled from her mouth.

"Calm yourself, young lady, or you'll spill something." Lady Azhar sighed as her cup was set in front of her, the vessel clattering slightly against its saucer in Cassandra's unsteady hand. Her eyes followed up Cassandra's arms to her face, one eyebrow lifting in a high arch as she met Cassandra's eyes. "You're the new girl that Salima brought on, yes? Some sort of traveler that washed up on the docks, or something of that sort, I hear."

Cassandra looked out the corner of her eye at Estelle. The young woman sat, silent and smiling, watching with hands folded on top of one another on the table top. "Yes m... my Lady," Cassandra replied with a brief nod of her head. "I was traveling on a steamship, a cargo ship. I traveled all the way here from Angliea to Kasabla."

Lady Azhar nodded and took up her cup. Cassandra heard her heartbeat echo in her ears, waiting for the woman's reaction to her drink. Thin lips rested against the edge of her cup, the Lady's eyelashes resting light on her cheeks as she drank. The corners of her mouth turned up as she returned it to its saucer after just a sip. Her eyes looked back to Cassandra, who was trying to stand steady and not fall over from her knees locking up.

"This is brewed nicely," Lady Azhar said. "A little bitter, perhaps. You may have boiled it a little too long. But the sugar and spices make up for the taste, some. If you would serve my daughters, please? I am sure they would like to taste your work, as well."

Cassandra let go of the breath she was holding, and nodded in agreement, placing the other two cups in front of Estelle and her sister. "As you are new," Lady Azhar continued, speaking as her fingertips stroked the side of her espresso cup, "perhaps you have not been introduced to my family. My husband Khalid, and our youngest child, Anwan, are out at the moment, so I will introduce you to them later, as you may be asked to assist Anwan with some of his studies. My daughters have both received top educations and I wish to ensure that their brother does, as well."

Cassandra swallowed. Her, as a tutor? The idea seemed dreadful. Hopefully, whatever Lady Azhar asked her to teach her son wouldn't stray far from what she retained from her own tutoring. 

"This is my youngest daughter, Anriette Fatima," Lady Azhar continued, gesturing with a turn of her hand towards the younger of the two girls seated with her, before direction Cassandra's attention to the other, "and my eldest child, Estelle Asima."

"I've already had... I've already been introduced to Lady Asima," Cassandra said, wondering if any of them could see her eye twitch. She was sure that she felt it do so. "Though I have not had the pleasure of being introduced to Lady Fatima." 

Lady Azhar smiled, and laid her hands back around her cup. "I won't keep you from your duties, young lady. You may go."

"Of course. Thank you, my Lady."

She was gone, then. Not too quickly, at first, but once she was out of the courtyard and out of eyesight, her legs moved faster, feet striking harder against the floor. The pleasure of meeting her! Cassandra snarled, hands clenching tight around the edges of her tray. The pleasure of meeting Estelle! She was the only one getting any pleasure out of this, she muttered, feeling her shoulders pull taunt as she hunched forward, barreling down the hallway.

Estelle was making a game of this! She was using her disorientation, her lack of connections, her lack of anything, to spin a bit of vengeance out of her! Though, at least, her treatment the night before at Estelle's hands was strictly between the two of them. That made it a potential pawn she could use with Lady Azhar, to take the smug look from Estelle's face, to knock the wind from her sails and let them sit down and discuss their differences like adults!

"Kasi!"

She startled; Cassandra's tray clattered to the floor. Myriam jumped back, gasping for breath. A basket rolled along past Cassandra's fallen tray, spilling flower petals over the tile. "I didn't see you," the young girl said, hand to her chest as she caught her breath. "You were in such a hurry..."

Cassandra shook her head, kneeling down to scoop up her tray in one hand, and grab the wayward flower basket with the other. Her face still felt hot and red, though she did her best to ignore it and keep a cool expression for her fellow servant. "I'm sorry. My head was just... was elsewhere. I'm sorry."

Myriam stared at her, frozen in place, her gaze seeming to sink deep into Cassandra's eyes for what felt like an endless moment pregnant with unasked questions. Without asking, though, the young girl simply gathered the rest of the spilled flower petals and stood back up. "If you need to talk," she said, her voice quiet, "come and see me before bed. I will hear you out if something is worrying you."

Cassandra blinked. When was the last time someone offered that to her? Eveline maybe, or Estelle, although perhaps not her-- she was so often busy, she had little time to volunteer to hear any more of Cassandra's worries and fears. That was business for friends and lovers, and she had precious few of either. Her mouth opened for a moment, but her mind was at a loss of words. "I... thank you. I... I appreciate that," she said at last, the words stumbling like a drunk in an alley out of her mouth.

"You're welcome. I'm sure the others would do the same for you, too." Myriam smiled. "At least Zaiah and Dalal would. Maybe Sabiha as well, though I doubt you want to listen to one of her lectures."

Cassandra's mind pictured the stern, tight-lipped Sabiha sharing a table with Irene, the two of them scowling at the rest of the world in disdain, and managed to laugh. "I think an acquaintance of mine back home would be good friends with her."

"We should ship her off to her, then," Myriam said, and laughed with her. "Sorry, I need to be off to get these boiling. I'll talk to you later."

Myriam hurried down the hall, her skirt rustling around her legs at her pace. Cassandra held her tray to her chest, still surprised by the younger servant's offer. She was so used to living alone, with Estelle as her only company. She would attend parties and socials, of course, but those weren't occasions to share one's intimate thoughts with a friend. She rarely invited anyone to her home. Perhaps she wouldn't have been so obsessed with Estelle, had there been more people as close to her, as familiar to her, as her former servant had been. 

Her arms wrapped around the thin, silvered tray, as a heart-stopping thought came to mind: was she really, truly, in love with Estelle?

The young woman had been the focus of her attention for years, and the focus of her obsessions for months. She'd committed murder-- murder!-- to keep Estelle within her reach. She'd abandoned her life in Angliea, rendered herself a fugitive from the law, in pursuit of this woman because the thought of a life without her was simply unfathomable.

Was she in love?

"Kasi?"

Her back stiffened. Cassandra nearly dropped the tray again, her hands fumbling to keep it in her grip. She turned completely around, to where Zaiah stood in the hall with a basket of laundry. "I was looking for you. Sayidah Salima wanted you to help me with the clothes."

"Oh," Cassandra said as she tried to pull her mind back down to earth. "Of course. If that's what she's asked me to do."

~ 

Cassandra and Zaiah sat out in the late morning sun, scrubbing soap into the Azhar family's garments before sinking them back down into the tub of warm water in front of them. Zaiah had laid towels out on the courtyard, folded up on themselves, to keep their knees from laying right on the hard stone. "Between prayers and cleaning," Zaiah said, the most subtle of smiles on her face as she washed out a linen undertunic, "I think I'm hard enough on mine as it is."

It was the first she'd really taken a good look at Zaiah. They were similar in age, though the Shamsi woman was both taller, and leaner, than she was. Her sleeves would lay against her arms at times, giving a hint at the solid muscle moving under the woman's skin, the same corded tissue showing from time to time at her neck as she leaned forward to scrub a piece of clothing on her washboard.

Her face was hard and angular, like Estelle's, though her hair was a dark brown, like the color of a richly stained oak table, where Estelle's was midnight black. Every inch of her seemed powerful. It was small wonder that she often took charge of the other servants when Salima wasn't around to give orders.

"Kasi." Zaiah's words snapped her out of her dazed staring. "You shouldn't let the clothes soak in the water like that. You'll cause the dyes to run."

"Oh. Oh!" Cassandra immediately pulled the dress from the water, wringing the excess from the fabric before hanging it to dry. "Sorry. I keep losing focus on things. I'm not much of a good servant, as far as that's concerned."

Zaiah nodded before turning her eyes back to her work. Cassandra knelt back down at the tub, pulling another piece of clothing from the basket. Should she ask? "Can I..." Cassandra started to say, her voice halting. "Can I ask... have you ever been in love?"

Zaiah's hands kept working, but her head turned towards Cassandra. "Why do you ask?" she said, working more slowly as she spoke her question.

"I was just... I thought I was in love with someone. But now I'm not sure." Cassandra dunked the skirt into the water, letting it absorb the soapy mix before pulling it up onto her washboard. She didn't have to mention names. Everything would still be perfectly clear without them. It would be an easier question, really, if she didn't ask. "I came all this way in pursuit of someone, and now I..."

"And now you realize she is not who you thought she was?"

Cassandra's heart jumped into her throat, choking her words. Zaiah laughed, and hung the piece she was washing. "Did you forget that you mentioned the name of the person you were in love with to Sayidah Salima? And now you've been reacquainted with this Estelle, only to find out that she is the eldest daughter of the one of the wealthiest merchants in the Seven Kalifhats?"

"I..." Cassandra said, holding the side of the washtub to keep from shaking. That was it, exactly. "She's a world apart from me. I was hardly anyone in Angliea. If I didn't have my business, I would be a pauper. That's gone now. I won't have a thing if I go back." She turned her head down, looking at the cloudy water in the tub, at the bubbles riding over its surface. "I might even have less than that."

Zaiah nodded. "I won't ask for details..."

"No!" Cassandra clapped a hand over her mouth, startled by how sharply she'd spoken. Zaiah, though, only watched and waited, leaning towards her, curious. "No. I want to tell."

"Then tell, if you want."

Something screamed within her to hold back, to not tell. What did it matter, she scolded herself. In Angliea, she was a criminal fit for the gallows, bankrupt and homeless. In Ul-Shams, she was a housemaid whose life would be filled with cooking and preparing drinks, scrubbing floors and tutoring Lady Azhar's son, and entertaining the whims and torments of the woman who was once her servant. At least it was something though, the voice in her head warned. At least you have a home, and food, and company here. Would you really jeopardize all of that, just to air your dirty laundry?

Shut up, she snapped at the voice, and took a deep breath.

She told everything. About her parents' disappearance, about how she hired Estelle, newly arrived from somewhere else in Angliea. How they found the book of sorcery beneath the house, and created the first delights. How her entire life was built on these monstrous little things she created, the tiny, living beings that she sold to be consumed alive by hungry aristocrats with deep pockets and purses.

Zaiah's eyes opened wide as she went on, as Cassandra told her about her feud with Violette, about the servants that she fed to the haughty banker to put her in her place. About how Estelle left her when she found out, and she holed herself up in her manor until Eveline arrived and sent her on her way to Ul-Shams. "Which is how I ended up sitting beside a fountain outside of one of your prayer houses, where Miss Salima found me. And that's why I'm here, washing Estelle and her family's laundry with you in this courtyard, when I was once a wealthy entrepreneur in my country."

They knelt in silence for a while, the sound of fabric being scrubbed over wood and metal the only thing that could be heard in their corner of the courtyard. Cassandra looked down, staring at her broken reflection in the murky wash water. It was too much to give, she scolded herself. She'd given up too much, and now word would spread, and her time in Ul-Shams would be over before it even began. Before she'd really had any chance to mend the wound between herself and Estelle. She really would be without a home. If neither country would keep her, where would she go without the means to travel elsewhere?

"Which life do you prefer?"

The frankness of the question surprise her. She sat up, head jerking around so that she could stare at Zaiah. The other woman was still diligently going about her work, carefully washing a pair of stockings to avoid tearing them on the washboard. "Which life do I prefer?"

"That was what I asked, yes." Zaiah stood up, and hung the stockings to dry, looking back down towards Cassandra. "Which life do you prefer? The life you had in Angliea, or the life you have here?"

"My life in Angliea, naturally. I had everything, there. I was high society," Cassandra said, frowning. That wasn't entirely true, as she was often the last to know about anything, the last invited to parties. She was easily forgotten until someone wanted her delights. "I built a life for myself from nothing, from the edge of bankruptcy and the threat of prison."

She looked down again, staring at her hands. They were wrinkled from the wash water, a sight that was strange to watch happen in front of her like this. "At the same time... at the same time, I was afraid to have the life I wanted. I wanted to live together with Estelle, as lovers. But to take a servant as my lover... especially a foreign woman, someone who wasn't even Angliean... no one would respect me after that. I would have nothing to sustain us with."

Zaiah nodded, and knelt back at the washtub, beside Cassandra. "And here, you are free of that constraint. You are nobody here, you're just Kasi, a foreigner who came ashore stowed away on a freighter. You are free from the aristocracy and their opinion of you."

"But I'm nothing but a servant, here! And Estelle is... is..." Cassandra gestured at the massive house behind them, the courtyard, gardens, and fountains all around them. "What chance do I have, trying to be the lover of someone that wealthy, that powerful? How am I ever supposed to be her equal, when I have nothing to offer her?"

Zaiah laughed, and thrust a ball of dirty clothing at Cassandra. "And how, exactly, did you think you would be equals in your former life?"

Cassandra's mouth flapped open and closed without words, holding the mass of clothing as though it were some strange monster's egg. "You should think that over, some, while you finish the wash. We still have a lot to do, and we should try to be done by the mid-day prayer, so that everything can dry in the heat."

"Right," Cassandra nodded, and began to untangle the knot of clothing from around itself. "I'll do that."

~ 

The question occupied Cassandra's every thought between her chores for weeks after that morning washing laundry with Zaiah. Whether serving or preparing food, or cleaning some room or washing rags and clothes, she wrestled with the question of what she and Estelle's lives might have been, if she had turned her back on the rest of her class and taken the young, Shamsi woman as her lover. The question kept her awake, staring at the ceiling on nights that she slept in her own room. They threatened to distract her as she poured tea, or kept her from listening attentively to Myriam's instructions on how to gather and separate flower petals without damaging them, or Dalal's efforts to find a suitor that met her standards. (Not too tall or too short, she told Cassandra. He should write beautiful poetry and have a voice that could express it just as beautifully, but he should be good with his hands as well and not simply laze about all day at a cafe while she worked.)

The other servants became her sounding board. It was clear by now to all of them that Estelle was the woman she'd come to their country in search of. Each had their own opinions on her chance of success, ranging from Myriam, who seemed absolutely confident that Cassandra would find success, to Sabiha, who was equally confident that she would foul up every attempt to earn Estelle's love. None, though, suggested that she give up. Even Sabiha would urge her to try, even though she was sure of Cassandra's failure. (You might get lazy otherwise, Sabiha would say, wagging a dishrag at Cassandra as they cleaned plates from supper, and that was a worse thing than just being made stupid with infatuation.)

Not all of her nights were spent alone, though. She would return to her room late after dinner, dishes, and evening chores, only to find a clean nightgown on the bed and a note summoning her to Estelle's room. There, she would sip the same tea as she had on her first time, and shortly thereafter find herself shrunk small enough for whatever dark amusement Estelle had planned for that evening.

After the first few times, it became easier to remain conscious during the transformation. The sight was surreal to behold. The world around her seemed to pull away as she shifted in size, the looming, waiting figure of her former servant rising upwards to the heavens as Cassandra dropped towards the floor. It became just as apparent, as well, how she was being returned to her own bed and her own size: Estelle would carry her back to her quarters, holding her mouth open with the edge of her fingernail as she placed a few drops of another potion inside.

It was one of those evenings that she questioned Estelle about it, about how she knew how to undo the magic, before drinking that evening's tea. Estelle only smiled, sitting across from her on a pillow, watching and waiting. "Just because you never bothered to read more of the book than was useful to your plans, doesn't mean that I did the same."

The book. She'd forgotten completely about it, wallowing in despair, alone in her home. "Did you take it with you?" she asked.

"Of course not," Estelle said. "I wasn't about to leave it with you. Who knows what other horribleness you would have inflicted on people, in your panic and desperation, once Violette started to close a noose on you."

Cassandra frowned, and said nothing in reply.

Weeks went on like this. Some would be spent with Estelle slowly, seemingly endlessly, rolling Cassandra slowly about in her mouth, sliding her out past her lips before pushing her back inside once more, offering fleeting glimpses of whatever she was doing-- reading or writing, most of the time. At times, she would play chess against Cassandra, who would have to plan each move between trips inside of the Shamsi woman's mouth.

Other times, though, Estelle would wrap a length of twine around Cassandra's body and hang her around her own neck as though she were the jewel on a pendant necklace. It was a pleasant alternative to being suckled upon like a piece of hard candy, though her height suspended from Estelle's collarbone often left her too dizzy to keep her eyes open for long.

That was how the present evening was being spent: Estelle was seated at her table on the terrace outside of her bedroom, writing in a bound journal as Cassandra lay with her head against the other woman's collarbone, suspended in place by a length of thread that looped around Estelle's neck. Looping, curling lines of rich, black ink flowed one into the other as Estelle wrote, though their meaning remained as indecipherable as ever to Cassandra. At some point, she told herself, she must have one of the servants teach her the Shamsi's language.

She sighed, and turned her head to lay her cheek against Estelle's skin. She was warm at least, and her perch was a comfortable, if somewhat precarious, one. "Estelle..." she started to say, only to have her keeper stare down at her with a frown.

"We discussed how you are to address me," Estelle said, and lifted her pen from the paper, setting aside with the nib against a shallow wooden bowl meant to catch excess ink. 

"There's no point in it! It's pretense!" Cassandra grit her teeth, staring up at the distant wall hovering over her that was Estelle's face. "We know each other. We've known each other for years!"

"And yet, every day that I worked for you," Estelle said, her hands laid out on the table as she stared straight down at Cassandra, "the unspoken understanding was that I was to address you politely. Because that is how a servant addresses their employer."

Cassandra swallowed back whatever words were forming in her head, and frowned. There was no point in arguing that. "I never wore you around my neck like some strange bit of jewelry."

"I was never careless and disrespectful of the power I manipulated."

Cassandra could hear her teeth scraping against one another. "When was I ever careless?" Her voice was shrill to her own ears, though she doubted it would sound nearly as angry to Estelle's.

Estelle rolled her eyes. "Did you forget that quickly that you're a fugitive? I wonder how many lives you've upended, all the people who were once your customers that are now having to witness against you before a judge."

"We were both responsible," Cassandra said. She wanted to cross her arms, to show her indigence towards Estelle in some way, but the twine holding her over the woman's breastbone kept her limbs pinned at her sides and against one another. "Whatever the law in Angliea might say, you chose to participate with me. You could have left me at any time had you disagreed with what I was doing."

Estelle made a sound of... Cassandra wasn't sure if it was irritation, or amusement. Estelle's feelings were an unending puzzle. Arranging one bit properly only seemed to muddle the rest. "And while that might be the more important thing, a judge will care less. Only the law will matter in their eyes, and as far as that is concerned, you will bear sole responsibility for your actions."

Cassandra sighed, and watched as Estelle picked her pen back up, continuing with writing in her journal. "Is this what I'm to be, then?" she said. She meant it more in anger, but the words seem to deflate and lose their impact as she spoke them. "Some plaything for you to..." Her throat tightened; her eyes felt wet. 

The thread holding her around Estelle's neck lifted, and raised her up with it. She was pulled past Estelle's face, her miniature body running against the other woman's cheek and eye, then up over her hair and above her head. "Cassandra," said Estelle, holding her captive in front of her face, "what brought you here? Why did you follow me here? I left you, and intended never to see you again. I figured that Violette would fetch the law after you, and that would be the end of you. And instead, you show up in my bedroom in servant's clothes, serving me tea."

Cassandra hung her head, unable and unwilling to meet Estelle's gaze. "I don't... I don't know, anymore. I thought I was in love with you. I thought I would fall apart without you," she said. "And I did! And Eveline, Lady Starling, showed up at my door and convinced me to run from it all and find you, beg your forgiveness, whatever it took." She gasped for breath, completely winded after letting the words spill out of her. "She was convinced that I loved you, and I was convinced myself. So convinced that I would run from a customs guard that tried to arrest me, and flee the country on a steamship."

Estelle closed her eyes. "You don't sound as convinced, now that you're here."

Cassandra could feel the tears rolling off of her cheeks. "I don't know what to think, anymore. I was so sure I loved you, and now I think the only reason I felt that way was because I never let anyone as close to me as you were. Not a single soul! You were my only real friend in the world, Estelle, so is it any wonder that I'd become as obsessed with you as I was?"

She wanted to hold her head, wanted to cover her eyes, but she couldn't; every sob, every tear, was open and exposed to view of the face looming in front of her. "I was out of my mind, and I poisoned everything between us. I wish I never came to you that night, months and months ago now. I wish I never forced those delights on you, or broken down to you like I did. I've made a mess of everything, Estelle, and now all I am is this... this... this pathetic, whimpering little thing..."

"What are you expecting of me?" Estelle's face gave away nothing to the girl dangling in front of it. "Is this some plea to snuff out your life? Because I won't..."

"No!" Cassandra shook her head, the force of her gesture causing her to twirl on the end of the necklace. The world spun by around in her at a lazy pace, though at her height the motion still felt dizzying. She closed her eyes until she felt herself stop moving. "I don't... I don't know what I want. I want to curl up on a pillow, or in the bottom of a drawer, and just cry. I've made an absolute mess of everything, and there is no happy ending in sight, no matter where I turn. I either serve here in your home and under your feet for the rest of my life, or I return to Angliea, and hang from a gallows."

Estelle sighed, and lowered her necklace down beside her journal on the table. Cassandra twisted onto her side, pulling herself up over the edge of the book's cover so that she could sit up and see Estelle's face without hurting her neck. "You truly are pitiful," she said, leaning her cheek on one hand, balancing the weight of her head on her arm, its elbow resting on the other side of her book from Cassandra. "But I doubt you are penitent, my poor, foolish 'Kasi'."

"I don't know what I am, anymore."

Estelle nodded and sat back up, looking over the script she had just written in her journal. "When you are done feeling sorry for yourself, there was one thing I thought would be worth sharing with you. If you are willing to listen, you might find it particularly interesting."

Cassandra shook her head, but what choice did she really have, she told herself? "What could you want to share with me that might be of interest to me, now?"

"How very dismissive of you..."

"Oh, just out with it! It's not as though I can do much else. I'm a captive audience."

Estelle chuckled at that, and closed her journal, careful not to harm Cassandra as she brought the opposite cover over and onto its mate. "My mother has been making arrangements to entertain a guest for a possible business deal in Angliea. With a particular businessperson."

Cassandra blinked. No, she told herself. It would be too much coincidence. "I don't see how this is..."

"For god's sake, Cassandra, who do you think I could be talking about?" Estelle prodded her miniature captive with a finger, tipping her over onto her back. "Violette Wilemere, Cassandra. Given her considerable influence on Angliean finance and commerce, my mother believe she could be the key to making inroads into markets throughout Her Majesty's empire."

"V... Violette?" Cassandra felt her skin pale, even as she felt her blood boil. "Violette, coming here?"

"It would seem that way. Apparently, she's been in discussions with my mother for the past year to establish a business relationship, funded by her bank and managed by my mother's connections." Estelle turned Cassandra onto her stomach with a single finger, the digit just longer than Cassandra's shrunken body. The twine wrapped around Cassandra pulled tight, and then began to loosen. Cassandra looked back, and saw Estelle slowly unraveling the knot keeping her bound in place. "She was poised to seal the contract with my mother right when the whole affair at your house happened, and she spent the last several weeks in court, siccing the judges on you. She's only now been able to get away long enough to come back to Ul-Shams. She'll be here in a few weeks to meet with my mother and finish negotiations with her."

Cassandra ran backward through her memory, thinking of Violette's response while Eveline and Irene were arguing about the very country she was now living in. How was she not aware of what Violette was doing? Cassandra frowned, and crawled her way free of her bindings as soon as they were loose enough to allow her to do so. She was never one to pay attention to business, and particularly Violette's business. Most of the time, she could care less what the banking mogul was up to. 

She swore under her breath. Violette, here! The last thing she needed was for her rival, the rival she'd run afoul of at home, to see her in her present state of living. Violette would drag out her humiliation here. She might even ask Lady Azhar for Cassandra to personally serve her during her stay in her host's home. And why wouldn't the Lady of the House agree to such a request? No, she insisted to herself. She could not let Violette see her in this state. Violette would humiliate her, then drag her back home to be hanged.

"What am I supposed to do?" Cassandra said, and sat up, drawing her knees up to her forehead. "She can't see me like this. I can't let her see me as a servant."

"As much as I would enjoy seeing you humbled in front of the likes of Lady Wilemere," Estelle said, "I have a use for you. One that might benefit us both, in fact."

Cassandra blinked. "Benefit me how, exactly?"

"Lady Wilemere is the most powerful woman in Angliea, outside of the royal family." Estelle wore a devilish smile on her face as her eyes met Cassandra's. "If I can grow close to her, and keep you out of sight while you watch, we could see all manner of things she may be keeping hidden. Knowing who I am, and more importantly, who I was, will just make me all the more enticing to her."

Cassandra's throat tensed. Estelle was going to flirt her way into Violette's personal life? What was the point in that?

Estelle could see the disbelief on Cassandra's face. "We could find something that would undermine her case against you. You could return to Angliea a free woman, and keep your family's home. You're not the only person in the world that keeps something terrible hidden, Cassandra. Don't be such a martyr to presume otherwise."

Cassandra nodded, slowly. It was a plan, to be sure, but the whole thing sounded absurd. Violette was no idiot. She would recognize Cassandra in an instant. "But why? You were so willing to leave me to rot at her hands, so why strike at her like this? And how exactly," she said, looking up at the face staring down from above, "do you plan on keeping me out sight?"

"Don't worry yourself with why. That's none of your business. As for keeping you hidden..." Estelle's laughter was soft and crisp, like wind chimes in the spring. "...I have a few ideas."


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cassandra and Estelle make their final preparations for Violette's arrival in Kasabla, as Cassandra comes to an understanding with herself, and all that she's done so far...

She was left struggling to wake up again the next morning. The two weeks to follow, Cassandra found, would follow exactly the same pattern.

Part of her wondered if she would survive to see Estelle's plan start to unfold itself. She woke exhausted before dawn each morning, hovering over the espresso she brewed for Lady Azhar and her daughters, hoping she might absorb the drink's potent wakefulness by simply breathing in the smell of the coffee grounds being brought to a slow near-boil. It worked for a short time, or at least, she pretended it did. As soon as she could get away from serving drinks and gathering up dirty dishes, she would sneak behind the house to nap for however long she could manage before Salima caught her and shoo'd her off towards some other task.

Her body ached. Her muscles and bones strained with every basket load of clothing, with every armful of dishes. Her back and her knees sent waves of pain through the rest of her body as she knelt and cleaned floors and stretched to dust ceilings. She could see circles under her eyes each time that she washed in the morning, and longed each day to sleep in through the sunrise like she did in what seemed like another lifetime ago. How long was it, now? Only a month, or maybe two at most. She had been at this work for so little time, and it already made her miserable. How could she stand a life like this far, far into the foreseeable future? The mere thought made her stomach tie in knots, and it was only through sheer force of will and the efforts of her fellow servants to ensure she was well fed that she she managed to keep her meals down.

After endless hours of work, she was summoned up to Estelle's room after dinner, and would spend hours more in a shrunken state. Each night made her mistress' plan clearer: she was to be shrunk and worn on her necklace, tucked underneath Estelle's clothing, to listen and take note of what was being said. What purpose this served, Cassandra had no idea. Estelle would be able to hear the voices just as clearly, if not more so, than she would be able to. Moreover, Estelle would have the benefit of being able to see Violette's face and body language. The only view Cassandra would have would be of the inside of the Shamsi woman's dress. She was, though, in no position to protest, and so each night, Estelle continued to test her ability to hear clearly through various pieces of clothing.

This left her precious little time to sleep. At best, she managed two or three hours between collapsing onto her own bed, and being woken by Salima at dawn to begin the new day. She wanted to cry, to hide; she did not know how much more she could handle this life. At least, she thought to herself, being hanged would end her misery decisively.

She groaned at the sound of a knock at her bedroom door, and pulled her pillow over her head. Maybe if she smothered herself, she could get out of all of this.

"Kasi?"

The voice wasn't Salima's, she realized, and pulled her pillow down from her face. It was Zaiah knocking at her door. She sat up, shoving a tangle of hair out of her face. "Come in."

Zaiah stepped into the room, ducking her head slightly to fit through the doorway. The woman wore a simple gown, a plain, cream colored piece with long sleeves and a skirt that fell to her ankles. "I couldn't sleep... I know you've been having trouble resting yourself."

"That's certainly true." Cassandra yawned, pulling her knees up to her chin, her blanket bunching together on itself as it gathered around her hips.

"I thought I would ask if you would like to sit with me during my prayers this morning." Zaiah said. "I thought we could talk afterward. About what's keeping the both of us up."

You wouldn't believe me if I told you, Cassandra thought, and shook her head. "That's alright. I'm not really a religious person. I would just be bothering you, probably."

Zaiah shook her head. "You wouldn't. You don't have to do anything. Just sit beside me. I just don't want to be alone in the mushalla, and I don't want to wait for everyone else to wake up."

It wasn't as though she had anywhere else to be, and she owned nothing to keep herself occupied with-- no book, no pen and paper, no checkers or cards. Cassandra slid out of bed, keeping her back turned towards Zaiah until she could some piece of clothing to pull over herself for the meantime. "Alright," she said, and did her best to stifle another yawn. "I'll go with you."

~ 

The room was small and windowless, with lanterns set into niches in the wall that Zaiah had to light before she could begin. The slippers they wore over the cool, tiled floors in the halls were left at the door. Cassandra took a seat under one of the lamps as Zaiah poured water into a basin and washed her face, hands, and feet.

The prayer was short, to her surprise. The words Zaiah spoke rolled over Cassandra's ears in waves, rising and falling, pausing for breath at times before rising back up. She knelt on the floor in silence for a while before rising again, and joining Cassandra by the wall at the back of the room.

"Thank you," she said, her eyes looking out across the open room. Zaiah sat cross-legged beside her, hands folded on top of one another in her lap. "I appreciate you joining me, like this."

Cassandra nodded, fumbling within her head for what to say. "It sounded beautiful. What you were saying, I mean, while you prayed." She scolded herself. She must sound completely stupid to her companion. She couldn't think of anything else to say, to comment on, though. "It reminded me a little of going to services on holidays with my parents, when I was little. Hearing the echo of everyone's voice, together, in the cathedral. When the priest spoke about heavenly choirs and such things, I though that was what it must sound like."

Zaiah smiled, a tinge of color coming over her cheeks. "And you thought I sounded like all of that?"

"I," Cassandra, too, blushed in turn. What in the world was she saying? "I mean..."

"No, it's flattering. It's very sweet, that my one voice, reciting a couple of verses I memorized as a little girl, sounded like something so magnificent to you." Zaiah shifted her legs out from under her, leaning her elbows on her knees, and her cheeks against her hands. It was strange, Cassandra thought, to see her curled up like this. She was so used to Zaiah towering over the other servants. "You should hear it when they call people to prayer on a holiday morning, here. Every voice joins in. You can hear the sound ringing through the streets."

Cassandra laughed. "No wonder you don't use bells here."

"I imagine bells must sound lovely, too, though." Zaiah turned her head to look towards Cassandra. The other servant's hair, she noticed then, was gathered back in a long, thick braid. "I would love to visit Ostinum, someday. I would wake early like I do here, and sit at my open window and listen to them chime as I had breakfast."

"You'd regret that quickly. The air in the city smells vile."

"Maybe. But just to do that once might be nice."

They fell quiet again. Why were they here, Cassandra thought to herself, hesitant and unsure of whether to say more. She knew nothing of the woman beside her. She was as much a mystery as... She blinked, and bowed her head. Zaiah was as much a mystery as Estelle. Or Eveline. Or anyone else who happened to pass through her life. "You would," she started to say, her throat feeling tight as she hunted for words, "want to visit Angliea, though?"

"Angliea, and Galia, the Norslands and Rushya, maybe as far as Shinya. Really, I'd want to travel as far as I might be able to." Zaiah lifted her head, looking off into the distance, though the walls of the mushalla towards somewhere else. "I want to see as much as I can before I'm old. Just reading or hearing about it isn't the same."

"I had a friend like that. It seemed like everytime I spoke to her, she was just coming back from some adventure. One of the last times I spoke with her before I left Angliea, she'd just come back from here." She thought of Eveline in the arboretum, back home, months before. She was so excited to talk about her trip at the time. It was hard not to imagine the two of them, Eveline and Zaiah, sweeping off together to some distant country to marvel at what was waiting there for them. "She was always excited to tell me stories about where she had gone to."

"Did you enjoy them?" Zaiah said, her hand curling around her braid, pulling it over her shoulder. "Did you enjoy the stories she told?"

"To be honest?" Cassandra sighed. "I hardly ever listened to most of them. Not really. I envied how easily she traveled around, but I never really paid attention to what she was saying. It didn't matter to me, what she saw or did. The stories just washed over me like water." She could hardly remember the details of Eveline's stories now. She hardly remembered the names of most of the places she'd been. It was why it surprised her so much to see Eveline at her door, pleading with her to flee before the police took her into custody: she never thought of Eveline, or anyone else for that matter, as a friend, even though the woman herself clearly thought otherwise.

"You said she was your friend, though?"

"She thought of me as a friend, though I don't think I did, in return." It was something she would make amends with, once she returned to Angliea. If she returned, at that. She would invite Eveline over twice a month, or maybe more. Maybe the elder woman could teach her to play cards. That seemed like a worthwhile game for two women who could care less what society thought of them. She laughed at the thought, and turned her head to meet Zaiah's eyes. "I'll tell you what. Should I ever get back home, I'll invite you to visit me in Angliea. I'll take you into town, see all of the sights. Then, we'll go out into the country, all the way up into the mountains of the Highlands. I'll show you all there is to see on our little island."

"You can't even imagine how much that would mean to me," Zaiah said. She reached out, and wrapped her hands around Cassandra's. "I would love that, Kasi. I would love it so much!"

The other woman's hands were warm, comforting, wrapped around her own. Her heart swelled at Zaiah's touch. When had anyone taken her hand like that? She smiled, and slipped one hand free of her companion's grip, resting it against the back of one of her palms. "Then I will see to it. You have my word on it."

~ 

It was as though a dam had broken within her. The days counted down faster towards Violette's arrival, yet, she seemed lighter and happier than she had since arriving in Kasabla's harbor, weeks ago. She spoke more, and was scolded more by Salima, who would often remind her to get on with her work. Which she did, and still dreaded, as the weight of task upon task bore down on her from day's start to day's end.

Nonetheless, she spoke, chatting with Dalal while she made coffee, or catching up with Myriam in the gardens, offering to help her pick flowers for perfume, which she admitted when caught by one of the other servants was partly to spare her nose from the smell of soapy, dingy laundry water. It was just as equally, though, for the pleasure of conversation with whomever understood enough Angliean to hold one with her. After so many years of isolation, of having only Estelle, and the occasional visitor or customer visiting her, her need to talk filled every possible moment of her life.

The conversations she had, at that! She startled Sabiha by trying to speak to her in Shamsi, using words and phrases she'd absorbed from Lady Azhar and her family. The stubborn moralizer shoe'd her time after time, only to be left without words or threats when Cassandra asked her, in broken, poorly-pronounced Shamsi, if she had a family.

"Of course I did," she finally snapped, keeping herself turned away from Cassandra as the two of them scrubbed a tile floor. "Everyone has a family."

"Did?" Cassandra sat up, leaning lightly on the scrub brush she held against the floor.

Sabiha looked away, biting her lip. "It's none of your business. Only a few of the others know much about what happened. People gossip and whisper too much as it is. It's indecent. I won't give them any fuel for that garbage."

"I'm sorry. I don't mean to pry." Cassandra breathed deep, putting her weight down onto the brush as she dug its bristles into the floor. "I lost my parents, myself. The worst is that I never found out what happened to them. One day, not long before I was to come of age, they simply vanished. Like some sort of illusionist's trick. They were there, and then they were gone."

Sabiha sat up from her own brush, her face relaxing out of its usual frown. "I'm sorry," she said, simple and straightforward. "God give them peace, and admit them to Paradise."

"I hope so." Cassandra sighed. "I try not to think about it much. I honestly hurts when I do, but sometimes I can't help myself. I had to take down or cover most of the portraits of us, back home... I couldn't stand being reminded that they weren't really there, anymore. I wish I knew what happened to them. I feel like it wouldn't hurt so much if I knew what became of them."

Sabiha nodded, and started back on her own work. staring down at the brush in her hands. "My parents were murdered. Killed in a raid by some bandits that swooped down on them while they were traveling across the desert. Killed them, and dozens of others, trying to make pilgrimage." Her voice tightened, arms shaking as she dug the bristles down against the tile. "They left me here with my aunt, told me I was too young, that they would take me when I was a bit older. They were going to bring me back candies from Maghal, from Shinya, and tell me how beautiful the Sacred House was."

Tears ran over the sides of Sabiha's cheeks. Cassandra set her brush aside and dried the soapy water from her hands. Hesitating for a moment, she breathed deep and wrapped her arms around the other woman. She didn't shove her away. To the contrary, Sabiha seemed to collapse against her, laying her face against Cassandra's shoulder. "It was thirty years ago, Kasi. I was just a little girl; when I finally made the pilgrimage myself, I traveled to the City of the Messenger, and cried for hours at the gate of the graves of Beloved Fatima and her parents, and begged that they welcomed my mother and father into Paradise without hesitation or pause."

"Maybe," Cassandra said, feeling Sabiha shake in her arms, and holding tighter to her, as though she would shake apart if Cassandra loosened her grip. "Maybe they're sitting together, both of our parents. Talking about us, and all of their hopes."

Sabiha nodded. "Maybe they are. God-willing, they are."

"God-willing, then." Cassandra smiled. "Come on. Let's finish up."

~ 

"You seem more at ease than you have been," Estelle said that night, looking out her window towards the city below as she waited for their tea to boil. There were more ships in the harbor, lately, and in two days time there would be another: the ship bringing Violette Wilemere to Ul-Shams.

Cassandra nodded, sitting cross-legged on a pillow at the foot of Estelle's bed. She was smiling, which was more than she'd shown to Estelle since she arrived in Kasabla. "I am. I don't feel so much like... like something is pent up inside me. Or that I'm stuck. I've actually been sitting with everyone during morning and evening prayers."

Estelle laughed, and turned away from the window, walking back towards Cassandra. "Have they made a convert of you? I thought I saw Sabiha coaching your Shamsi. I wouldn't be surprised if she was teaching you to recite, as well."

"Not hardly. Be kind to her, though." Cassandra crossed her arms over her chest. "I feel like I understand what she's been through."

"And you don't think I do, as well?" Estelle raised an eyebrow as she knelt down onto the pillow opposite Cassandra, laying her hands on top of her lap as she settled onto the side of her hip. "Sabiha is only a little older than I am. I found her, one day, when I was little, crying in the servants' baths while I was exploring the house. Everyone was talking about the pilgrimage, as my parents were planning on going that year, and it reminded her of what happened to her parents."

The kettle whistled, and Estelle stood, removing it from the heat. Cassandra could smell the now-familiar aroma of the herbal tea that would return her to her shrunken state for the evening. "I later told my parents, who confirmed what happened with Sabiha's aunt, who worked for us at the time. Anything that Sabiha needed, from then onward, my parents made sure it was taken care of. We actually spent a great deal of time together, her and I, until she became more involved with housework and I became more involved in society."

"She seemed so bitter when I first came here..." Cassandra said. Estelle returned to her, setting the tray with their tea cups between the two of them.

"She feels like most people live their life too lightly. They don't realize how precious their lives, and the lives of others, really are." Estelle lifted her cup, cradling it in her hands. "So I suppose, now that you know, you can forgive a little of how strict she can be, though I do feel she is perhaps too judgmental at times."

Cassandra cocked an eyebrow, and spooned a bit of sugar into her tea. "She called me a whore, the first time she met me."

"Like I said," Estelle said, and shrugged with a smile on her face, "a little too judgmental."

It always seemed strange as she drank her tea. It was as though she could feel the poison inside soak through her throat and stomach, mingling slowly into her blood, where it would spread through her body and work its magic. "You won't be able to see them, really, while Violette is here. We can't chance her running into you."

Cassandra nodded, and stared down into her teacup. "You'll miss them," Estelle said, voice hushed in surprise. "Won't you?"

"Aside from you, Estelle? They've... they've been the closest people to me since I was a little girl." She shuddered, feeling loneliness again just as easily as she felt the tea's magic spreading through her. "They're my friends. They really are... I've felt like I could tell them anything. I've never really had anyone like that in my life. It was only at the very end that I felt like I could even tell you what was in my heart."

Estelle nodded. "Maybe you are learning something, then."

She pulled a necklace out from under her gown, a long, thin, metal chain with a piece of gold-framed crystal hanging from it as a pendant. "I wanted to show you this... I found it the other day, in the marketplace. The crystal is hollow; it's meant to hide small notes in, though there's a hole in the bottom of it that would let air inside. I was going to hide you inside of it, under my clothes."

Cassandra swallowed, staring at the small pendant. It would be a tight fit, and it surely wouldn't be comfortable to be cooped up within the small bauble for hours on end. "Would I even be able to hear anything, inside of there?"

"Perhaps, though that's only part of things. I intend to let you out, and have to search through Lady Wilemere's papers while I have her distracted for the evening."

"Distracted?" Cassandra's eyes narrowed. Her vision blurred for a moment, then cleared itself. The potion was already taking hold over her. She would start to shrink shortly. "Distracted how?"

"We both know that Violette has an interest in me. I intend to use that to my advantage, to have you see what she is up to while I have her looking the other way."

Cassandra's throat tightened, her imagination immediately running rampant with the sight of Violette and Estelle in bed together, while she was forced to watch, miniature and hidden, from across the room. There's was nothing she could do, though. Any protest would reveal her, and she would be doomed. She hardly wanted to imagine what Violette might do to her in such a tiny state. "If it's the only way."

"It may or may not be. But it is a choice I am comfortable making."

Cassandra laid down on her side, sighing as she lay her head against one of the pillows around them. Her clothing started to feel loose, her skin pulling away from the fabric covering her. "Let's just get this over with. I have work to do in the morning."

~ 

There was little time for conversation or bonding the next day. Every servant in Lady Azhar's household was busy preparing the house for the arrival of their guest. It was only with dinner that evening that they were able to take respite from an endless list of chores, the servants' dining room noisier than ever with speculation about the Angliean woman who would be among them the next day. It was strange to Cassandra to be in a room with people who'd never heard of Violette. Half a dozen conversations hung in the air at once, ranging from what she looked like, to her personality, to what she was coming to discuss with Lady Azhar.

"I knew her," Cassandra said, her voice low as she sat between spoonfuls of couscous and vegetables. This immediately focused all attention at her table on her. Dalal nearly threw herself into her lap in excitement, Cassandra having to shove her plate out of the way to keep from spilling her food on herself.

"You do? You did?" The young girl's eyes were as wide as tea saucers. "Come on, Kasi, tell us everything! You have to!"

Sabiha was the only other person beside Salima keeping out of the bustle of speculation. "Get out of Kasi's face, and stop trying to stir up gossip!"

"Both of you, calm down," Salima said, and sighed, waving her hand across the table to shoo Dalal out of Cassandra's lap. "Don't make her waste her food, she's probably as starved as the rest of you bunch."

"It's fine, it's really fine," Cassandra said, though she was happy when Dalal settled back into her seat.

Zaiah met eyes with her from across the table. There was a knowing look in her gaze; the tall, lean servant was the only one she'd trusted with full knowledge of her past. Thus far, Zaiah had kept the more unsavory parts of Cassandra's life in Angliea a secret from the others, something she was endlessly grateful for. "I take it she was someone in your social circle, back home?"

"You were an aristocrat?" Myriam blinked, and nearly dropped her spoon into her food. "You never told me that!"

"I tried to," Cassandra said, a half-smile on her face as she remembered that particular afternoon with the perfume-maker. "That was the day you were showing me how to distill the oils from your flower batches. The smell of all the chemicals went to my head and upset my stomach."

"That's right," Myriam said, nodding in recollection. "I remember... I had to shove you away from the vats so that you wouldn't..."

Zaiah swooped in, grabbing up Myriam's spoon to shovel a scoop of couscous into her mouth. "Please. We're trying to eat." She shook her head and turned her attention back to Cassandra. "You were saying, before Myriam interrupted you?"

"Oh, right." Cassandra collected herself and her thoughts before continuing. "Lady Wilemere... She's a very powerful banker, back in Angliea. Anyone who has a loan, or moves money of any sort, has probably had to deal with her at some point. After Her Majesty and Her family, she's probably the most powerful woman in the Empire."

What could she say? Every ounce of her seethed with anger and resentment towards Violette. She controlled everything Cassandra owned, and it was her meddling with her and Estelle that started this whole mess. That thought gave her pause. No, she told herself, running her fingers over her spoon. She and Estelle's separation was already well underway at that point. The night she'd intruded upon Estelle's room, upon her privacy, upon the very dignity of her body, was what started all of this. Violette's intrusion only served to widen the rift.

And then she'd completely torn them apart. She looked around the table, at the women, young and old, looking to her with eager ears and curious minds. Those two girls, the ones she'd trapped in that arcane room below her home. She'd never even learned their names, she barely even remembered them, but really they were no different than the women she was sharing dinner with. What if it had been Myriam and Dalal? Zaiah and Sabiha? What if one of them, one of the women she'd spilled her heart to, that had opened themselves to her, what if it had been them forced to drink her poison potion, forced to watch in horror as she fed them to Violette?

Her stomach twisted in a knot, her hand shaking. That was why Estelle left. That was what sealed it. She was not just a murderer, but a callous one, an unfeeling killer. Those two girls didn't even register to her. She was so wrapped up in hurting Violette that she thought absolutely nothing, felt nothing, at the nightmare she had doomed them to.

She dropped her spoon onto the table and doubled over, covering her face with her hands as her tears gushed forth. All at once, the room went silent, and everything was still. All Cassandra could do was shake, and cry, and try with all of her might not to throw up everything she'd eaten.

A warm hand laid against her back. "Kasi," said Zaiah. She'd risen from the table, and stood behind Cassandra, her hand stroking over her arched back. "What's wrong?"

"I need to lay down," Cassandra said, coughing between sobs. "I need to lay down. I'm sorry. I don't feel well at all right now."

Zaiah looked up at Salima, who nodded. The taller woman's arms wrapped around Cassandra, helping her up from the bench and onto her feet. "Come on. I'll help you to your room."

Cassandra nodded, and leaned into her friend as she was helped from the room. The chatter started back as she was leaving, except for the women around her table, who watched Zaiah help her through the door, all wondering what was said that had caused her to break down so completely.

~ 

Zaiah had her back in her room in an instant, seating Cassandra on her bed, who sat huddled on herself at the edge of the mattress while Zaiah wrapped her up in her blanket. "Is there something you need to tell me," she said, and sat down at Cassandra's side, her arm reaching across her back so that her hand could rest on the shoulder opposite her, "that you are afraid to tell the others?"

"The servants that I... that I..." Cassandra shook her head, and felt her stomach twist into a knot again. No, she insisted to herself. She was going to talk about this. "What I told you before, when I told you about the delights? The two girls that I bewitched like that... Violette was the one that I fed them to."

She shuddered, and turned herself to lay her head on Zaiah's shoulder. "I didn't even think anything of it at the time. It didn't even matter who they were, or whether they had families, or friends, or... I just enspelled them, and covered them with jam and chocolate, and I never ever knew their names!" She coughed and felt her body shake. "They didn't deserve what I did! They were just there, in the wrong place at the wrong time, and I was so bent on punishing Violette for flirting with Estelle that I didn't even think of who I might be taking the two of them away from!"

Zaiah nodded, her hand moving down from Cassandra's shoulder, stroking Cassandra's back through the sheet wrapped around her in a heap. "I can't say," she said, her voice low and quiet, "that I can forgive what you did. It's a nasty, brutal thing that you did to those two girls. It's even worse that they had nothing to do with your fight with Lady Wilemere."

"I know I can't really be forgiven," Cassandra said. "I just don't know what to do. I don't know how to make things right, again."

To that, though, Zaiah shook her head. "I don't think that's true. I think you know what you need to do, but you're afraid to do it. Or to even admit what needs to be done at this point."

Cassandra felt something go cold within her. There was only one thing that could be done: she had to appear before the judge, and face whatever punishment was due. She'd run from the law with the hope of a happy ending. How could Estelle ever respect a coward, though? And a murderous one at that? She owed it to Estelle, to the two servants she'd taken the lives of, to everyone she'd ensnared in the wide net she'd woven with her delights, to admit to what she'd done.

"I need to go back," she said, her voice small and choked in her throat. "I need to go back to Angliea, and turn myself in. I should stand trial for sorcery and murder, and admit to what I've done."

She shook her head, though, and sighed. "But I can't do that, not right now. Estelle needs my help. She doesn't trust Violette. None of us do. She's probably worried that she'll try to cheat Lady Azhar out of her family's wealth, somehow. If there's one thing the world does not need, it's for the likes of Violette Wilemere to have a business empire spanning the whole of the globe."

"Then you've decided what you need to do?"

Cassandra sat up straight, shrugging her blanket off of her shoulders. "I have. After Estelle's found out what she needs to know, I'll... I'll go back to Angliea. And whatever happens to me, happens. It's the only thing that's just at this point, is to admit to what I've done." She wiped the tears from her eyes, and offered a half-hearted smile at Zaiah. "I'm sorry. I won't be able to take on a tour of the country, then. I was hoping I might still be able to."

"You don't know that for certain, just yet." Zaiah smiled, and embraced Cassandra, who curled up in her arms. "Things may take another turn, when you least expect it."

Cassandra laughed at that thought. Her life had already taken so many unexpected turns as it was. Who was to say it might not surprise her with one more. "Let's hope so," she said.

~ 

Estelle fetched her from her bedroom early that morning. There was no knock, no warning; Cassandra simply heard the door open, and opened her eyes to Estelle standing in the doorway. “It’s time,” she said, holding out the necklace that was to be Cassandra’s home for much of the next several days. “I have the tea brewing for you in my room. It should be ready by the time we get there.”

She followed Estelle to her room with not a word spoken between them. She could not, would not, wake anyone on her way. No one could be allowed to know what was going on, or what Estelle was concealing. There's was no telling what might happen if word spread around the house, either before or after Violette's arrival. It was only once they were safely in Estelle's room, and the door was closed, that Cassandra dared to open her mouth.

"May I..." she started, her eyes fixed on the fine lines between the tiles in the floor. Estelle was already across the room, checking to see whether the kettle had boiled over or not. "May I ask..."

"May you ask what?"

Cassandra looked up; her eyes met Estelle's, looking back at her from across the room. "May I ask," Cassandra said, her voice small and shaking, "why we are doing this? Why you need me to listen in on Violette like this? What do you hope to learn, and why?"

Estelle turned away, focusing her attention on the kettle that was now whistling. She took this from the fire, snuffing the small flame out before pouring the hot water over cups filled with tea leaves. "For obvious reasons, at least to you and I. I don't trust Violette. She comes out of the same selfish, self-entitled sense of ownership as you do. Everything ought to be hers, and will be, if she can get it for the right price."

I'm not like that, Cassandra thought, but winced nonetheless. Her delights had made her cocky, after all. She wouldn't have risked angering Violette without the magic that created them at her disposal. And even that, itself, she was flippant with. Power that altered matter itself beyond recognition, and she used it to create confections! "So," she said, biting her lip. "You despise us both. That just makes it all harder to understand."

Estelle sighed and crossed the room, a teacup in each hand. "Don't sulk, it looks silly enough when Anriette does it, and we have more than an extra decade on top of her." She jerked her head, urging Cassandra further into the room, and sat down on the pile of pillows resting on the floor before the foot of her bed.

Cassandra settled down slowly, crossing her legs under her, taking her teacup with both hands from Estelle. "You're both selfish," Estelle continued, tapping a half-spoon of sugar into her tea. "But you more so in the way that a child is selfish. You throw a tantrum about your place in the world, much as a toddler might about not having a toy or a sweet that they wanted."

"Where as Violette..." Estelle frowned, running her fingertips over the rim of her cup. "There is something cold and precise about her, and it sets me on edge. She has the look of a spider, watching from her web, waiting to ensnarl her prey. And as shrewd as my mother is, she is also an honest woman, and I worry that Violette is more than willing to take advantage of my mother's sense of fairness."

"Take advantage? How?"

"I don't know," Estelle said, and shook her head before taking a long, slow draw from her cup. "It seems strange to me that she would leave Angliea when she's set off this hunt for you. There's something else going on here, but I don't know how it figures in."

"And I'm supposed to figure that out for you?" The aroma of the reagents blended into her cup of tea tickled at Cassandra's nose. She sighed, breathing in deep, before starting to drink and pour the strange poison into herself. "What am I possibly going to overhear, hidden in a necklace under your dress?"

"You'll be a witness to anything I hear," Estelle said. "And we'll find out, this way, if she'll notice me leaving you alongside her books and papers while I attract her attention elsewhere. There may be something there that she wouldn't otherwise give up easily in conversation, no matter what anyone might try." 

Cassandra's throat tensed at the thought of Estelle and Violette intertwined with one another. She shook her head, drinking faster, annoyed that the potion wasn't already taking effect. "You're confident that I won't be discovered?"

"As confident as I can be." Estelle closed her eyes. "There are risks in everything."

Cassandra nodded, and started to feel the strange vibration of the now-familiar magic taking hold of her. "I trust you," she said, her voice shaking as she started to shrink. Her lips pressed tighter against one another, trying to force a smile. "I trust you," she repeated, trying to believe it herself as she spoke the words.

Estelle closed her eyes. "Do you?"

"I do," Cassandra said, her eyes focused on Estelle's face in the moments before she dropped down into the tent of her nightgown. "Because you're the better person than me."

Her gown overtook her then, and everything went dark.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cassandra wrestles with her feelings and thoughts as Violette arrives in Kasabla, and comes to a decision about what will happen next.

Warm drowsiness overtook Cassandra. Her lack of sleep, she supposed, had finally caught up with her. She felt wrapped in warmth, as though it were a blanket swaddled around her, enveloping her entirely as she slumbered. She smiled-- at least, she felt as though she smiled-- and gave a deep sigh. It was the first comfort she'd known in weeks, and everything about it seemed even more lovely than the bed she'd left behind in Angliea.

She floated lazily into a dream. Strange, she thought to herself, that she would realize it was a dream from the inside like this. Everything seemed hazy, like a day in the thick of summer, picnicking along the bank of the Tymes. In fact, she realized as the picture resolved itself, it was summer, and they were along the riverside.

Cassandra blinked and looked around, and found people milling about around her, all taller than herself. She stumbled about at first, disoriented-- she had just had the tea after all, and she was shrinking when last she remembered anything-- and only caught sight of herself after falling back on her behind and catching a glimpse of herself in the river. Her red hair was done up in tight curls and topped with a powder blue bonnet that matched her dress. A white bow was tied around her collar, and ruffled lace capped the tops of her stockings, which now had a long grass stain marring the front of them.

"Oh, good heavens! Albert, you said you had your eyes on her!"

Cassandra looked up, eyes opening wide at the woman hurrying towards her. Copper brown hair was bound up in braids, joining up into a bun at the back of her head, though her green eyes were as familiar as Cassandra's own. A man in blond hair and a brown suit, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, was running a few steps behind her, one hand holding delicately to a freshly-cut bloom while the other reached out towards Cassandra. "I had!" he said, overtaking the woman, ducking down to scoop up Cassandra in his arms without crushing the flower in his hand.

"Until you got caught up in a wildflower you found..." The woman sighed, holding up Cassandra's legs carefully. "At least she hasn't scrapped her shins. What if she'd fallen into the river?"

The man laughed, and set Cassandra back down onto her feet, kneeling in front of her. "Your mother's convinced I'd have let you float all the way to the Channel," he said with a grin. "Don't worry, darling. I'd have got you out of the river well before you had to settle on life as a buoy."

He laughed, then swat at the handkerchief that struck his head. "I was trusting you," the woman said, "to keep an eye on her while I was having a conversation with Lady Starling."

"Flora, please..."

"Oh, don't call me some flower," she said.

"Florence, dear," he said, overemphasizing his wife's name. "I promise, I'll keep her with me."

"I hope so," she said, and turned her attention to Cassandra, kneeling down beside her husband as she reached out, laying a delicate touch against Cassandra's cheek. "Please don't run off so far from Mama and Papa without telling us? You're still so little, Cassy, it's far to easy for you to get lost in so wide a world."

Cassandra felt as though a string were plucked inside her heart. The feeling resonated through her, vibrating deep into the fiber of her being. Mother and Father. Albert and Florence Selby. The world was very big, she thought to herself, so big that it swallowed the two of you up without a trace, and left me all alone, just like you were both afraid it could do to me. All alone, just weeks from my seventeenth birthday, and having to argue to a judge while still dressed in black about how I was fit to inherit and manage your home and your land without interference from the Wilemeres and their financial juggernaut.

It was just a dream, she reminded herself, trying to calm her heart. It wasn't really her mother and father. It was just a memory of the two of them. She sighed, even though the child she was within the dream strutted along singing nonsense rhymes, one hand held by each of her parents.

Blurred figures of others enjoying the park drifted by, until they reached the picnic blanket laid out on the grass. Lady Eveline Starling-- much younger here in her memories than she presently was-- smiled as she knelt over the cloth, setting sandwiches wrapped in napkins out for everyone. "Ah!" she called out, a wide, pearly smile reaching from cheek to cheek as the Selbys returned, "so you did find the runaway before she went off to join the circus!"

"Eve!" Florence wrinkled her nose, releasing Cassandra's hand to cross her arms in front of herself. "That's terrible!"

Eveline kept chuckling, waving for Cassandra to join her. Cassandra found herself bounding over to the young woman's side, dropping down cross-legged at the blanket's edge to lean against Eveline's side. "She could work her way up to ringmaster, someday, if she started young enough. What would you think of that, Cassy, being ringmaster of a circus?"

"That'd be exciting!" She turned to her parents, eyes bright and hopeful as she watched them sit down beside her. "Mama, Papa, can I join the circus?"

"Not this young, you're not," said her mother. "Eve, please, stop getting her so worked up. Next thing you'll know, she'll want us to find a lion she can tame, and some clowns she can lead a parade of."

"Or an elephant!" her father added, unable to keep from laughing, himself.

Florence struck Albert with her handkerchief again. "You're supposed to be on my side, here!"

Soon they were all laughing, Cassandra on her feet, attempting her best imitation of the circus-masters she'd seen in Ostinum before her mother convinced her to sit back down and have lunch-- even members of a circus troupe, she reminded, still needed to eat a good meal before they could perform. 

They were halfway through their meal when Albert sat up with a start, covering his mouth as he quickly chewed his food, waving a couple of figures further off towards their picnic site. "Oh, Thomas! Helen!"

Cassandra's mother turned, patting her husband firmly on the back. "Albert, one thing at a time. You're going to choke yourself one of these days."

"Sorry, they just surprised me..." He coughed and cleared his throat after swallowing, and tried again to wave the couple towards them. "Helen! Come and join us, over here!"

The couple in the distance talked among themselves for a moment, before the woman smiled and led them towards the Selbys' picnic. "Lady Selby, Albert," said Helen, a fine lipped smile on her face. Light blue ribbon trimmed in slim bands of lace bound her hair behind her head, waves of black hair hanging in loose curls against the back of her neck. "What a lovely surprise. I see you've brought your daughter with you! I haven't seen her in some time."

Her mother nudged Cassandra in the back. "Go on, darling," she whispered into Cassandra's ear. "You should greet her properly."

Cassandra nodded, and stood up quickly, curtsying to the tall, dark-haired woman and her husband. "How do you do," she said as she stood back up. "I'm Cassandra Selby."

The newcomer leaned forward, patting Cassandra gently on the head. "How darling of you. It's a pleasure to see you again, and see you growing up so finely. I should introduce you to my own daughter," she said. A young girl, several years older than Cassandra, stepped out from behind Helen, who rested a hand on her shoulder. "Come now, dear, be polite."

"Of course, Mother." The girl's features were ones Cassandra would never forget-- there was pointed, focused intent in her eyes, her hair, black as her mother's, drawn up in loose, looping drapes that darted up under her broad-brimmed hat. Plush lips smiled at Cassandra as long, pointed fingers hiked the hem of her skirt up slightly as she curtsied back at Cassandra. "How do you do," she said, her voice light on the ear. "My name is Violette Wilemere."

~ 

Voices jolted Cassandra awake, as did the mix of warmth behind her, and sunlight filtering through fabric in front of her. She rubbed her eyes, mumbling wordlessly as she brought her senses back to focus again. Where was she, again?

Her head bumped against a hard surface behind her, and she looked around. Walls of clear crystal, framed in gilded metal, surrounded her on all sides. Ahead of her, fabric stretched from side to side across her field of vision, blocking all vision, blocking everything but a dim level of light. Behind and to either side of her, a wall of tan skin arced away from her, the smooth, tanned surfaces bound together so that her capsule was resting in the valley between. Some distance down, she could see the rounded edge of some smooth fabric, wrapped around something.

Cassandra blushed. This was the necklace Estelle has shown her, and she was inside of it, tucked into the Shamsi woman's clothes to lay over her breasts.

Silk was packed into the pendant's interior, providing her somewhere comfortable to lay. She pulled this around herself, hoping it would obscure her further from sight, though careful to leave her head exposed so that she could listen.

_Listen!_

She closed her eyes, trying to focus on the voices outside, trying to tune out the low, steady beat of Estelle's heart below her. The sounds floated in and out, indistinct from one another. Then, words and sentences became clearer. Cassandra sat forward, pressing her ear against the crystal.

"...for all the time it has taken me to speak with you again, Lady Azhar," came a voice familiar to her in how crisp and precise it pronounced words with. Violette! Cassandra's heart pounded. In her head, she yelled at her body to quiet itself so that she could continue to eavesdrop. "Fortunately, all of the turmoil I've been caught up in at home should be subsiding soon enough. It's simply a matter of tying up loose ends at this point."

"You spoke of it some in your last letter." The next voice was as exacting, but older, while the sound of each word rolled melodically like the call that went out over Kasabla's rooftops every morning, afternoon, and evening. "I take it, then, that the person responsible for the sorcery was taken into custody?"

 _They're talking about me!_ , Cassandra thought, and frowned.

"Not yet, though it's only a matter of time." Violette was speaking again. "A close associate of hers was apprehended recently and charged with aiding a fugitive." Cassandra bit her lip, and felt a heavy weight in the pit of her stomach. That was surely Eveline Starling she was talking about. "She's being belligerent and refusing to answer questions, which isn't surprising to me in the least. She's been one to buck the curve of society for as long as I've known her. They'll pull the truth from her in due time."

 _I'm sorry, Eveline,_  She had to go back, once Violette's business in Ul-Shams was looked into. Lady Starling didn't deserve to be dragged through the mud like this; she was likely in solitary confinement, the court hoping that being so utterly cut off from the world would shake the defiant aristocrat enough to make her give up the truth about helping Cassandra. *You wouldn't though,* she said, and shook her head, thinking of the imposing, broad-boned woman banging on the bars of her cell like some poltergeist to harass anyone close enough to hear her.

"You make the whole investigation sound nearly barbaric." The voice was closer this time, louder: Estelle's, Cassandra realized. She raised the matter calmly, trying to keep the statement from sounding to pointed. The last thing either of them wanted, Cassandra thought, was an argument. "Solitary confinement, for someone who isn't even guilty of the offense that is central to the proceedings?"

"Barbaric? No, not at all. She's well provided for, but a person can only last so long, severed from the rest of the world. Besides," Violette paused, and Cassandra heard the clink of cups and saucers, "what her companion was doing was an unspeakable horror. The Crown's methods of ensuring justice are fair, even if they may be severe. Surely, Lady Azhar, you understand the necessity of these things, at times."

"I do. Estelle, please," Lady Azhar said, "mind your tone around our guest."

"My apologies then, Lady Wilemere." Estelle sounded as collected as she did when working as her servant. "I meant no offense to yourself, or your country."

"None was taken, my dear, but I accept your apology nonetheless."

Cassandra pressed herself harder against the crystal pendant's walls. She could hear the noise of servants clearing away dishes, serving fresh drinks, of people moving about, all of which made it more difficult to hear anyone speaking. "...family's long been rumored to have been involved in dark things..." She blinked. She'd never heard any rumors about her family and anything to do with magic, before.

"A history of dabbling in dark magic?" Lady Azhar sounded appalled by the thought. "Estelle, my dear, please tell me you weren't involved in any of this while you were overseas?"

"I believe the woman who unknowingly hired Lady Asima kept secrets from her, as well," Violette said before Estelle could reply to her mother. "We had a long conversation, one evening, in Lady Selby's gardens, of how little she trusted the little would-be sorceress. Of course, I, myself, knew nothing of your daughter's birthright at the time, and stated that I would be more than happy to take her into my employ, instead, should she continue to feel uncomfortable working in Lady Selby's service."

"God forgive us!" The table shook for a moment. She imagined it was likely from Lady Azhar dropping her hands onto the table, as upset as she sounded. "Estelle, why didn't you tell me about any of this?"

"It was a matter of my own conscience, Mother," Estelle's voice was subdued, cowed, Cassandra thought, from her mother's outburst. "I did not feel the need to involve you in something that would only serve to upset you."

"I assure you, Lady Azhar, that your daughter is as blameless in the matter as any of the rest of us who had association with Lady Selby." Violette's voice was soft. Cassandra strained to hear her clearly. "We were all caught up in what she was doing, but she was the only one who exactly what was happening. We may worship differently, but I am sure we can agree that she will face justice in this life and the next for what she's subjected us all to."

"Agreed, indeed." Lady Azhar sighed. "Let's not talk about this any further. I don't want to upset my stomach after such a nice meal."

"I agree, Mother," added Estelle, pleasantness working its way back into her words again. "Have you been enjoying your stay in Kasabla so far, Lady Wilemere? I heard that my Mother took you through town on your way from the docks?"

"Oh, yes, indeed!..."

Cassandra sat back, pulling her ear from the wall of her enclosure, still uneasy. Were her mother and father aware of the magic that was hidden under their house? The door leading into the arcane library, after all, was marked with the family crest. Violette made it sound as though it were a long-held family secret, though it was hard to trust anything that came from the financier's mouth. It would be easier if she were an outright liar, Cassandra thought, but every lie of Violette's was woven tight around the truths, and pulling it all back apart was as difficult as dismantling lace back into a single line of thread.

Eveline's predicament was surely true, that was for certain. What Violette had said about Estelle were carefully worded white lies. None of it was exactly false, though none of it really gave any of the truth. That was sensible as well, if Violette still had some interest in Estelle. That, Cassandra thought, was surely a real matter, and not just something she'd seen into Violette and Estelle's meeting in her garden, months before. Further, she was careful not to mention her own enjoyment of the delights. Violette had her own reputation to guard, after all, and Lady Azhar would surely want nothing to do with someone to took pleasure in a treat she would find so repulsive.

Estelle had read the spell book, more of it than she had, Cassandra remembered. And it was here, in her room! She had to see it again, really read it, understand it.

She had to be careful, though. There was no telling what Violette would decide to do if the book were found. She could simply take it; she could blackmail Estelle and Lady Azhar with it. It had to be kept hidden, but she had to know the truth hiding inside of it that she'd glossed over for all of these years.

~ 

“We need to have a look at the book,” Cassandra said when she and Estelle returned to her room later that day. “I’m certain that there is something there, something that can help answer my questions.”

Estelle raised an eyebrow at her, while Cassandra crawled out of the pendant and into the woman’s hand. “Do you think that would be wise, with Violette about?”

“Weren’t you the one that asked me before about taking risks?” Cassandra sat up in her palm, knees drawn up over her chest as she looked out and up at Estelle’s face. “There must be something in there, something about my family. The book was locked in a room with my family’s seal when we found it. It must have been put behind such a thing for a reason.”

“It may simply have been the fact that the book was in your parents’ possession, not necessarily that they knew its contents intimately.” Nonetheless, Estelle moved across the room with Cassandra in-hand until she was at her bookshelf, sliding the ancient tome free from its space on the top shelf. Her eyes looked periodically towards her door, ensuring that no one approached, before carrying the book under arm to her bed.

“But everything else in the room…”

“It all may have been there long before they knew about it. The stairway was ancient, Cassandra, you know that just as well as I do.” Estelle sighed and set the book in her lap, leaving just enough space for Cassandra to stand atop her dress on. Cassandra wobbled, her legs shifting as they found her balance on the fabric draped taunt between Estelle’s thighs. Behind her, she could hear her companion’s stomach grumble, still heavy with the meal she’d eaten earlier, and feel heat radiating outward from the skin wrapped up under the woman’s clothing.

Estelle thumbed through the pages. Cassandra looked up, watching her eyes scan back and forth over the pages to look for something that might stand out. “I dreamed,” she said, unsure otherwise of what to speak about. “After you had shrank me, and placed me into the necklace.”

“What of?”

Cassandra turned her eyes back towards the book in front of her. She hoped, as impossible as it might be, that some message from her mother and father lay inside, some tangible contact with them. The tome was centuries old though. Estelle had to carefully turn the pages to keep the parchment from tearing and her fingers from wearing the ink from their surfaces. “My parents,” she said finally. “It was part a dream, and part a memory. Lady Eveline was there. My mother was a friend of hers, went to the same academy together. We were having a picnic in a park outside of Ostinum, and the Wilemeres came to join us.”

Estelle nodded and said nothing, her attention focused on the book in front of her. “Maybe it was just that I was thinking about Violette, and all of this business of her coming her, and it pulled up the memory,” Cassandra said, easing herself down onto her knees as she watched Estelle turn from page to page. “It made my parents’ absence feel as fresh and as raw, though, as it had when I was an adolescent, and realized that they… they simply weren’t coming home.”

She was surprised to feel Estelle’s fingertips at her cheek, moving strands of hair away from the miniature woman’s face. “Lady Starling was so close to your family,” Estelle said. “Why didn’t you look to her for help? She surely would have helped you, in a heartbeat.”

“She would have, and was poised to. Violette, though, was just as poised to take control of my family’s property.” Cassandra swallowed, and looked down at her hands, wrapped around themselves on top of her legs. Was she shaking? She wasn’t sure if she was, or was just imagining the tremor. “I remember having to argue before the court. Eveline offered to obtain the services of a counsel that she was also friends with from school to help me make my case to the judge, because I simply didn’t know… I was barely seventeen, Estelle, when it happened. I’d just come of age that winter, and my parents were planning a grand party for me that summer.” She shook her head, and held her hands together, fingers locked between one another. "And instead, I decided to represent myself, and my family's estate, to prevent Violette from taking possession of the property, leaving me with nothing. I wanted it to be clear that I could stand for myself, that I could take care of things. That I was fit to take up everything my parents left behind."

The pages left unread grew thinner and thinner. "Yet, when it was all said and done, and the house and the land were yours, to had to admit that you couldn't take care of anything."

"We had nothing but the land, but the house." Cassandra pressed her hands down into her lap. "Everything else was debt owed to the Wilemeres and their banks. I had to lie to you when I said I could pay you, because I didn't know how I would do so, at the time. If it came down to it, I would sell some of the furniture, maybe a few acres of land. Anything to keep as much as I could in my hands, and keep you there with me to help me keep everything in order."

Estelle sighed, and turned the last page over. "I will be the first to admit that I barely understand the language the book is written in, but..." She brushed her fingers over Cassandra's hair again. "I'm sorry. I didn't see anything. No message bearing their names, no note hidden between pages we'd left unturned."

Cassandra felt her heart sink out of her chest. She fell forward, her hands pushing down into the fabric draped over Estelle's lap. "No, we must have missed something... they had to have left something..."

"I promise, if there was anything that stood out..."

"No!" She reached the edge of the book, pulling herself up by the cover. "There has to be... there has to be something..."

"Cassandra, you said it yourself. Their disappearance came suddenly." Estelle carefully took her arm between two fingers, tugging at the miniature limb. "I should put this away, before someone else comes into the room."

"Not yet! You can't, not yet!" Cassandra turned and pulled at her arm, slipping free of Estelle's grip. She scrambled up on top of the cover, the paper covering the board cool under her knees. "I just... I have to look closer, I might see something since I can get closer!"

"Cassandra!" Estelle hissed at her from between clenched teeth. "Cassandra, stop this. The book needs to be hidden, now." She reached for the shrunken woman, ready to pluck her off of the cover, frowning as Cassandra's hands kept swatting at her fingertips. "Stop it!"

"I will not stop! Not until I find what I'm looking for!" Cassandra sat up with a start, pointing at the center of the cover. "Look! My family's crest is embossed into the cover!"

"Cassandra, stop this now!" Estelle pressed two fingers to the bridge of her nose, shaking her head. "Your parents, or someone else in your family, likely rebound the book at some point. It doesn't mean anything. I told you when we found the book that the cover looked newer than the parchment inside..."

"I can feel the page springing under me, Estelle! There's something in here!"

"It's probably just paper to make the board more rigid. Please, Cassandra, you're grasping at straws!"

"There's wax along the spine-edge of the cover! There's a pocket in the cover!"

Estelle grabbed once more for Cassandra, pulling her off the cover, the miniature woman's limbs flailing. "Listen to yourself! Cassandra, as much as I wish there was something here, there is nothing. I wish your parents had left you something, some guidance, some help. They did not have a chance, though, and I am sorry for that. Perhaps yo would have been a different person if they had. But they did not, and you cannot look to people who disappeared years ago to help you. You must figure this out for yourself."

Cassandra let her limbs fall limp, swinging in the air below Estelle's hand. "Cut into the cover at the wax," she said, face set as she stared up at Estelle. "Cut into it. There's a pocket there. I know there is."

Estelle opened her mouth as though to speak. The sound of footsteps approaching from down the hall caught both of their attention. Before Cassandra could open her mouth to speak, she found herself stuffed down into the top of Estelle's dress, left to cling to the steep slope of the Shamsi woman's skin as Estelle turned at the waist towards the door.

"Lady Asima?"

Cassandra sighed in relief. It was only Dalal at Estelle's door, by the sound of it. She laid her head against Estelle's dress, one ear pressed against her skin, her legs spread apart to plant her feet against Estelle's breasts to keep from falling down into her host's lap. "Yes, Dalal?" Estelle said once she'd twisted around.

"Lady Wilemere asked if you might join her on a walk through the city, together." Cassandra winced at the thought of Violette trying to romance her host, but forced herself to remain still and silent. Her feet kept shifting, though, their grip on Estelle's skin weakened by the other woman's sweat.

Estelle's chest swelled and fell, Cassandra's limbs shaking as she struggled to hang on. "Of course," Estelle answered. "I'll join her after the mid-afternoon prayer. I imagine she'll have conducted what business she has with my mother today by that point."

"Very well, my Lady. I will let her know."

There were footsteps again, muffled by the wall of Estelle's body. It was several moments before she was sure that Dalal was gone. Her eyes narrowed as light poured in from above her, and Estelle looked down at her from the neckline of her dress. "I'm sorry," Estelle said, pulling Cassandra up and out of her gown. "I didn't want you to be spotted, and had to think quickly."

"I was fine, though it was starting to get harder to keep my foothold." She dangled from Estelle's fingers, her arms draped over the digits wrapped around her chest. "A fall at my size wouldn't likely be very pleasant."

"Let's get you back into the necklace. I'm apparently to have a date with Lady Wilemere." Estelle rose from the bed, carrying Cassandra in one hand, with the book called under her other arm. 

"I know. I'd rather not think more about it." Cassandra shook her head, approaching the necklace laid out on the table in front of Estelle's dressing mirror. "Please, promise me though. When you have the opportunity, I need you to cut into the book's cover. I know you don't believe what I'm saying, but all I ask is that you look. I will glue the paper back down myself if you prove me wrong."

Estelle paused as she stood back from the mirror, and offered the slightest hint of a smile at Cassandra before taking the book to a chest at the foot of her bed. "Very well. We'll have a look as soon as we are able, then. As soon as we can do so, securely."

Cassandra's lips parted. surprising opening her eyes wide. The afternoon sun caught of Estelle's hair, shining against the gloss black cascade that surrounded her face. "You give me your word on that?"

"If it will give you comfort, one way or the other?" Estelle gave a brief nod, and then turned to lock the book away, out of sight. "Yes, Cassandra. You have my word."

~ 

Day to day life was a struggle, particularly confined to her pendant as she was. Cassandra felt, after the first day or two, that she was starting to lose her sense of the world behind what she was able to perceive and absorb from her perch against Estelle's chest. There were pieces of discussion of business that she heard between Violette and Lady Azhar. Fragments of details of the creation of a trade empire that spanned around the world. None of it was enough, though, to read into Violette's intentions. As though she would give anything like that up openly, she thought to herself!

She strained, as well, to listen for any mention of her own parents, Beside Violette's passing, disparaging remarks the morning of her arrival, there was no further mention of the Selby family and its secrets. Estelle was cautious, she noticed, trying in a round-about matter to stir up talk about Violette's affairs back in Angliea in the hopes that it might steer things towards some detail they might otherwise have never gained from the woman and her association with Cassandra's family. Thus far, though, the effort proved largely unsuccessful.

Cassandra struggled to hold onto some hope, but the isolation of Estelle's necklace left her with little company but her own thoughts and doubts. What in the world did she hope to uncover or gain, eavesdropping on the world like this? One of the voices that echoed about the compact cell planted the idea in her ear that this was all an elaborate method of putting her out of the way. What assurance, this time, did she have that Estelle would ever return her to her proper size? Perhaps she had long since given up on Cassandra. Perhaps the necklace was just a convenient way of setting her aside to pursue the question of relations with Violette? The promise of solving what might hide inside of the book, of returning to Angliea, of anything, was so nebulous at best. At worst, they were merely figments and delusions that only existed with any sureness within her own mind. They were straws to be grasped for, and little more than that.

Wouldn't it be Estelle's right, though, to simply dispose of her like that? Cassandra shook her head. No one would ever know the difference. And wouldn't it be fitting, in a way, considering the very thing that drove the last wedge between the two of them? It was, she reminded herself. It was entirely Estelle's right, and she was in no position to question it.

She dreaded and feared the possibility, but it was there, and she was powerless against how it loomed large over her within her prison. 

"Estelle," she said, sitting on the table by the woman's bedside, settling herself down into the silk-lined box that served as her bed. "Do you think I should go back to Angliea?"

Estelle turned onto her side, staring up from her pillows and sheets at the tiny woman addressing her. "You would most surely face a judge if you ever returned to your country. And they would convict you. You might as well be signing your own order of execution by sailing home."

"I'm well aware of that." Cassandra nodded, her hands clinging to the edge of her box. "My question still stands, though. Do you think that I should return?"

"That's not a question I would have expected from you, from the woman I left back on that island."

Cassandra felt her hands tighten, her fingers threatening to cut groves into the side of the small, wooden box as she clung to it. "Well, whomever I was then, I'm asking the question now. Please, stop walking around my question. I know that I have asked so much of you, Estelle, in all of the years that I've known you, but I need this answer from you more than anything else I've asked."

Estelle nodded and sat up. Her hair laid over her shoulders and spilled down her back, dark eyelashes framing eyes that were sharp and focused on the woman addressing her, even as they already started to settle into sleep. "Why would you want to return," she asked in reply, laying her hands in her lap as she sat forward, "knowing that your destination would, most likely, be the gallows?"

 _Because there's nothing really left for me with you_ , Cassandra thought to herself, but shook her head. That wasn't it, not really. That was the voice of the Cassandra she came here as talking, but that wasn't the real reason; it wasn't the reason she cried on Zaiah's shoulder. "Because what I did... what I did months ago, to those two girls I fed to Violette. They deserve some measure of justice. I murdered them in cold blood; I smiled and laughed as they screamed in horror, trapped in a prison of flesh and acid and scalding hot tea, stale air slowly choking them to death."

Cassandra breathed deep, and bowed her head. "If hanging from a noose in front of their families, in front of everyone I've ever drawn into this business of mine; if that gives them any sort of closure, then at least it's a measure of settling accounts."

"But that isn't entirely it, either," she went on as Estelle went on to speak. "I owe them an apology. I owe their families, their friends, and explanation. I owe it to them that they should know that I killed them out of pettiness, out of selfish, emotional impulsiveness, that I used them as pawns in some petty, one-sided fight. They deserve to know the truth, and as little as it changes anything, they deserve to know that I regret taking their daughters, their sisters, their lovers and their friends away from them. They didn't deserve that. No one deserves that."

She felt lighter, felt strangely calm, as though some mass within her had simply dissolved and let her stand more lightly on her feet. For a moment, she saw Estelle smile, before laying her back down onto her bed, settling her head down onto her pillows. "I take it, then," Estelle said as she closed her eyes, "that you've given up your pursuit of me?"

Had she? She didn't want to, but realistically, it seemed wrong to ask Estelle to come back to her. If they were to have any life together, she would have to forever refuse to answer for her delights, for the murders, for all the things that she'd made and done. "I will always wish to be with you. That has, and will never change. But if I'm to take responsibility for everything I've done, then I will have to leave you behind. I will go to the noose, though, grateful to have known you."

"If that is what you wish, then." Estelle's voice was quiet, her head turning away from Cassandra as she drifted away into sleep. "Good night, Cassandra."

"Good night," Cassandra whispered back, and settled back onto her bed, pulling the top over her box. The shadow covered her over as surely as the piece of cloth that served as her blanket. She smiled though, curled around herself, a heat swelling her heart as consciousness slipped from her eyes and mind. She was no longer afraid of the night, afraid of the dark, afraid of the finality of the rope around her neck. Even if it could never be as she hoped, she would dream of dancing with Estelle to a waltz played on piano as the last ounce of breath was strangled out of her. She would dream of kneeling at the feet of every delight she had made, from the first to the last, and apologizing to them each.

She felt resolved and at peace, and slept until the morning returned.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything comes together between Cassandra, Estelle, and Violette, and secrets start to unfurl. Violette, however, may be able to unravel all of her rival's efforts to get to the truth...

“While I realize that I lack the tangible resources to move merchandise, my understanding is that you have that access, and the right connections…”

Cassandra leaned against the glass wall of the pendant, the sound of her breath rushing out of her louder than it would normally be because of the compact space. Much of the talk that afternoon was of business, numbers and agreements solidified over tea and light snacks. It was dull, uninteresting talk, but she was determined to remain awake. Estelle was depending on her to be a second set of ears, and she could not fail in that capacity.

Violette was speaking, discussing the financial resources and the business contacts that she possessed within the world-spanning Angliean Empire. “I was under the impression that you had a considerable reach into the wheels that drive Her Majesty’s empire,” Lady Azhar said in reply. She heard a glass set back down onto the table with a small, sharp sound before she spoke up again. “It must take quite the fleet to move merchandise between the colonies in Maghal and the rest of Her domains.”

Business, business, business, Cassandra thought and frowned as she followed the conversation. Though it 

seemed strange, she told herself, that Violette was unwilling to share just how many contacts she possessed in Angliea. It was as though she wanted to depend solely on what resources Lady’s Azhar’s business had available, which seemed more than a little odd for a partnership. Violette needed to have her hands in everything. Why would she leave the responsibility for managing transport and stock to people she did not know at all?

Unless, of course, she was reading matters wrong. Cassandra bit her lip. She was no good with business like what was being done over this table.

“The Starlings have substantial contacts in over-seas transport,” Estelle said. Cassandra blinked. Eveline had never mentioned it, but then again, she’d never asked. “From what I knew, your family and theirs are fairly close.”

Violette laughed. Cassandra could almost imagine her waving a hand to dismiss the statement. “They are. So many of our families are close to one another, going back some way. You should understand, that’s why the whole matter with the Selby’s stung so much. We could share everything with one another, trust one another, and then to have the two of them disappear, and their daughter involved in sorcery and such…”

Cassandra sat up.

“I thought we’d agreed,” Lady Azhar said, “we wouldn’t bring this back up.”

“My apologies, Mother, but Lady Wilemere has captured my curiosity.” Cassandra felt Estelle shift, turning in her seat, presumably to focus her gaze on Violette. “I would not have guessed that your families were in such a sororal relationship with one another. Lady Selby made it sound as though there was a rift between you and her.”

“Between us? Yes, there was. But my parents, and Lady Selby’s parents, and the Starlings and the Milfords; our families go some time back with one another.” Cassandra thought she could hear the woman tapping her fingers against her glass.

There was a pause in the conversation, the sound of fabric rustling, someone turning in place-- Violette turning to reassure Lady Azhar of the conversation, perhaps. "Our families go back generations with one another. My grandmother used to joke that our bond with one another was as old as the land itself, though that was perhaps an exaggeration owed to her age."

Please, Cassandra though, hearing her heart echoing fast inside the pendant, please stay with this. This was what she needed to hear, not chatter about contracts and transactions! "I used to hear stories, as a very little girl, that our families guarded ancient Angliea secrets, ones entrusted to us in the ages of the First Queen and her court. Mysteries passed down by knight who escaped its bloody destruction by the barbarians who invaded the island, to be kept until the realm was once more in the hands of the True Sovereign of the realm."

Cassandra gasped. The book! She must be talking about the book! Was it really magic from the Court of Umbria? She had to get into the cover lining! There had to be something there!

"You really believe a story like that?" Estelle laughed and sipped her drink between her words. "Umbria and her court are a legend."

"Perhaps. But we live in a world where science can now explain the gifts attributed to ancient magicians."

"I fear," Lady Azhar said, words quick to cut into the conversation, "that we are going severely off the topic at hand again."

"My apologies, mother. Perhaps, Lady Wilemere, we could continue our own discussion after you've settled your business for the day?"

"I don't see why not. Perhaps we could have a walk by the seaside later this afternoon?" Violette sounded delighted by the thought, a perk in her voice obvious enough to Cassandra. "After having such a head for all of the figures and business involved in this agreement, it would be relax and enjoy a lighter line of conversation."

"We'll make it an afternoon, then." A pause. "By your permission, of course, Mother."

"Given everything you were caught up in with Lady Selby, spending your time with someone as stable and sensible as Lady Wilemere would be a welcome change of pace for you." Cassandra sat back, her legs sliding over the bottom of the pendant as she unfurled herself away from the front of the crystal. "My permission is granted."

~ 

"Is this a date, then?"

Estelle looked away from her wardrobe to Cassandra, the miniature woman standing on her bedside table. The Shamsi woman held a fine dress in her hand, the cuffs of each sleeve finely embroidered in gold thread on violet, shimmering silk. The design running down the front bore the image of a finely-winged bird reflected in a pool, a long procession of other birds making their way past vines and rocky peaks to reach their destination. "Are you upset?" she asked. Cassandra struggled to read her expression, her voice neither angry nor concerned.

"Does it matter?" Cassandra shook her head, and looked at her feet. "I shouldn't worry about it. Whether there's feeling towards what you're doing, any real feelings for Violette, I know this is to get into her to find out the truth." She sighed, and carefully lowered herself off of her feet. The height she stood at was too much to take standing up. "Besides, it's not really any of my business if you pursue her, or anyone else."

"Why wouldn't it be? It seems as though you still have an interest in me." Estelle turned back to her wardrobe, dress draped over one arm as she searched for what to wear with it, though she stopped after a moment of searching. "You are settled on it, then. On going back to your country."

"It's the right thing to do." Cassandra swallowed, her throat tighter than it had been moments before. "It's the just thing to do. I should answer for what I've done. For everyone I've hurt. Everyone I am hurting, still. Eveline is under arrest because she helped me escape."

"That was a choice she made. She was well aware of the consequences-- Lady Starling is not as impulsive as you are." Estelle looked back to her, laying a light gown over the dress on her arm as she returned to her bedside. "Whatever her other faults, she is a deliberate and thoughtful woman. I'm sure that she has not regrets for choosing to help you, no matter what conditions she is being kept in."

Cassandra shook her head. "I don't wish to take advantage of that, though. I should repay her for the opportunity she's given me."

Estelle raised an eyebrow at her companion. "What opportunity?"

"For us to end our relationship on better terms." Cassandra smiled, forcing the corners of her mouth upward despite the weight in her heart dragging them down. "At least now, that day you left me on the porch isn't my last memory of you."

Estelle bowed her head, sitting down on the bed. Her hands reached toward Cassandra, lifting her from the table into her palms. She carried the miniature woman to her face, bowing her head forward until her lips laid against the crown of Cassandra's head. Her breath was warm, Cassandra thought, and closed her eyes, letting each wave of air wash over her bare skin. In a perfect world, where she had done no fault, she would love to keep this moment forever. To feel Estelle's breath against her breast, to feel the warmth and texture of her skin wrapped around her own, to run her fingers slowly over the dark cascade of Estelle's hair.

"I'm not sorry for the choice I made that day," Estelle said, her voice a whisper in Cassandra's ear. "Nothing you do can undo your actions."

"I'm not sorry for choosing to follow you here," Cassandra replied, and raised her head, feeling Estelle's lips run over her cheek. "But I'm sorry for the choices I made before that. I know they can't be undone, but they can be answered for."

The moment hung in the air between them, her own heart and Estelle's breathing the only sound Cassandra could hear. Then, slowly, Estelle's lips moved over her, finding her own, tiny against the plush skin in front of the miniature woman. There was a pressure, a movement, the sense of contact, chosen and deliberate between the two of them.

Cassandra laid her hands on Estelle's lips, and returned her kiss, drinking in the sweetness of the other woman's skin.

"I wish you would stay," Estelle said at last, her voice once more a whisper.

Cassandra shook her head. "Nothing would be changed if I stayed. I wouldn't want to be that person, and you wouldn't love a person like that."

"Perhaps you're right." Estelle nodded, then set Cassandra back down onto the table, touching her fingers to her lips once they were free. "Alright. We have a date with Lady Wilemere. I don't intend for us to be late."

~ 

"What the hell sort of right do you have to demand things from us?" A hand struck down on a table, causing Cassandra to jump back from the doorway. "You are a child! Are your parents even aware of this business?"

She was dreaming. She must have fallen asleep again, Cassandra thought to herself. She was older than the last dream, starting to come of age, her body filling out into an adult shape. She must have been on her way to the garden to play, or read one of her books, when she caught the sound of the argument brewing in the dining room. She lingered, hiding around the doorway out of sight of her parents and the other woman in the room.

"My parents don't need to be aware. I came of age last spring. I am perfectly able to manage my own business, Lady Selby."

She knew her by her voice, and frowned. Violette.

"You are letting the contents of the book go to waste. There is much within it that could put our families in a potent position. The world is changing, Lady Selby..."

"We are all very well aware of the world and the course of history, Violette. There's no need for you to lecture me on any of it." Florence frowned and pointed towards the door. "We're meant to be keepers of the Book; to guard it, not exploit it. It isn't our property."

Violette laughed, sharp and haughty, the sound like a sharp nails down Cassandra's back. "You really want to believe those old stories about the First Queen, and how she's meant to return and rule us eternally? It's superstitious nonsense meant to keep us from using what our families possess."

"It's not ours, Violette! The book belongs to Angliea!"

"We are Angliea!" Violette dropped her hands onto the table, leaning onto it, shoulders drawn up to her ears as she snarled across the table at Florence. "We are its future! They want decisive leadership, not the bickering of Parliament or the impotence of the Queen! We can lead it, and lead the world, if you would let us use what's been stored in its pages since the birth of our country!"

"This country," Florence shot back, matching Violette gaze-for-gaze, "does not need the commands of an impulsive, greedy little girl. You may have come of age physically and legally, Violette, but your mind and your heart are still those of a girl much your junior."

Cassandra wasn't sure what she did, whether a floor board behind her squeaked or the noise came from her own lips. Both women, though, looked up and towards her, Florence hurrying towards her a heartbeat later. "Cassandra!" Her mother sighed and patted her head. "You don't need to be privy to all of this." She then  turned back to Violette, lips tight as she stared down the young woman. "Get out of my house, Violette. Never bring this business up again."

The young woman walked past the two of them, pausing at the threshold to stare down at Cassandra, before lifting her eyes back to Florence. "This isn't the end of this," she said, voice short and clipped, brushing a single lock of hair out of her eye. "Don't forget, Lady Selby, everything you and your husband possess is owed to my family's bank. One wrong step, and everything your own-- including the book-- falls into my hands."

"Is that a threat, young lady?"

"Just a warning, nothing more." Violette smiled, and pat a hand against Cassandra's cheek. "Now, then, little Cassandra. No need for the long face. This is nothing to concern you."

Florence stepped between the two girls, ushering Cassandra behind her back. "Leave," she repeated, and pointed once more at the front door.

Violette sighed and stepped away, turning her back to the two of them. "Just remember," she said, waving a hand at the pair as she opened the door to leave, "what I've said today. And be careful, Lady Selby."

The door shut. Cassandra watched her mother relax for the first time since the woman noticed her. "Sorry you had to see that unpleasantness. Your father and I are going to have to have a word with the Wilemeres about her behavior." Florence sighed and put her arm around her daughter. "Now, then. Why don't we go see your father in the gardens? I believe he might have a little surprise for you, as well..."

"A new book?" Cassandra asked, her eyes hopeful as she walked down the hall at her mother's side.

"We'll see, we'll see..."

~ 

The world came back to Cassandra in a red-tinted haze that flickered, light to dark, around her.

Blood? Sunset? Fire?

She shook her head, blinked, and focused. It was the light of a nearby candle, flickering through the red-tinted crystal of the pendant. The jewelry lay on a table-- a writing desk, by the immediate look of books and papers, a fountain pen neatly resting at an inkwell. The light warmed the interior of the pendant, making it as comfortable as her cocoon of blankets, back in her family's home. Or the feel of Estelle's lips pressing light against her chest, her belly...

She crawled towards the door in the crystal, easing it open, careful not to make things look too suspect. Despite the light, there was no way to tell if anyone was standing nearby who could notice her.

How long had she been asleep?

Sound came back to her as she opened the lid, peering out over the surface of the desk. There was light glowing from a nearby doorway, and the sound of a light, yet sensuously thick voice, spilling into the air.

No words, Cassandra thought to herself. Just the implication of whispers, and the sound of reactions to movements that stemmed from them.

She tensed, but swallowed back the surge of bile in her throat. This was Estelle's choice. It was not hers to tell the other woman who she could kiss, or touch, or invite close to her body. No matter desperately she wished she were the other woman in the next room.

Cassandra shoved the hatch open, and tumbled out onto the table top. The room next door was Violette's suite; this room was what was serving as her personal office while in Lady Azhar's estate. It was, perhaps, her only chance to pry into Violette's personal documents.

She forced herself to tune out the sounds from next door. There was work to be done.

~ 

Violette's fingers moved up Estelle's neck, the edges of her nails just making contact with the other woman's skin. "I want you to understand," she said, voice low as she curled one palm against Estelle's jaw, her thumb laying against the Shamsi woman's cheek, "how long I have waited to approach you like this."

Estelle smiled, a slight curl to her lips. One leg stepped back, sliding through the slit in the light gown she'd worn under her dress, revealing the firm curve of muscle laying under taunt skin. "Since that night in the garden?" she said, long-lashed eyes half closed as they met Violette's gaze.

"Then," Violette leaned in, "and before then. Since I first laid eyes on you, maybe months after you started working for Cassandra." She laughed, a light, short sound. "I would never have guessed what you were."

"The daughter of a powerful business woman?"

Violette shook her head, pulling her pent-up, midnight black hair down onto her shoulder with one hand as the other ran its fingers back around into Estelle's, bringing their lips within the space of a breath from one another. "An unimaginable beauty," she said, and intertwined their lips.

~ 

Each letter set into the pockets on the writing desk's shelf took a full twist of her body to slide down onto the table top, Cassandra found. She was forced to stop and catch her breath once each sheet of folded paper fluttered down in front of her. This was useless, she told herself, frowning as she marched along the length of letter after letter. At least she was familiar enough with Violette's handwriting that she could scan quick through the contents and realize there was nothing there that would made this worthwhile.

There was a moan, louder than the others, from the other room. Cassandra shivered. Ignore it, she reminded herself. She had to ignore it.

She shook her head. Violette wouldn't write anything about the book, about their families, about magic in something as public and accessible as a letter. She needed something deeper, something intimate...

A glint of light caught in Cassandra's eye. She blinked, then turned, and almost felt the breath pulled from her lungs.

Tucked under the shelf, out of obvious sight, was a small book, the covers bound together on the open end with a lock set into a leather band. If Violette were to ever write down something so personal, something that was meant to be concealed from a wandering eye, a small, private, unassuming journal would be the place to do so. The lock might bar most from prying into its contents, but she had the advantage of being small enough to fit between the pages. Even in dim light, stuck between pages, she should still be able to read the woman’s writings clearly enough.

She marched forth across the table, frowning as she heard two bodies next door fall against Violette’s bed. She didn’t want to know. Estelle was safe, was in control, she assured herself. She simply had to focus on the task at hand, and force the emerald-eyed monster of jealousy back into its corner in the back of her mind.

~

Estelle’s hair fanned out, her head tipping back to show the length of her neck. Violette’s cheek was quick to lay against it, her lips gracing over muscle and skin to her shoulder, then down her collar bone. “I wish,” said Violette, voice hushed under her breath as her hands drew the gown of the woman under her up and off of her body, her fingers gripping around the light linen, “you had chosen to come with me, instead of returning here when you left Cassandra.”

“Had I done so,” Estelle answered, raising her back off of her bed to allow her gown space to lift past her shoulders, “we would not be having this night together.”

“We could have had many others like it,” Violette said before pressing their lips together, one hand taking firm hold of Estelle’s waist. Estelle’s own hands wrapped around the curve of Violette’s breasts, meeting behind her back, gathering her own nightgown upward by the handful until the fabric lifted clear of the Angliean woman’s hips. “As many as you would have wanted.”

“And yet,” Estelle said, a coy smile curling up one corner of her lips, “we have more than time enough for that, now. Why dwell in the past?”

“I long to make up for lost time. Weeks. Months. Years, even.”

Estelle drew a hand back, taking hold of the other woman’s chin with the crook of one finger. “Then start now, and show me what you’ve kept pent up inside. Show me all the things hiding in your heart, Violette.”

Violette closed a hand around Estelle’s, and smiled as she pressed her lips to those digits. “I intend to.”

~ 

Cassandra stood in front of Violette’s journal, hands laid against the edge of the leather cover. The book was laid flat at least. She knelt down, pressing her hands under the edge, and pushed up. The board moved with only a mild effort, much to her relief. The gap made between the pages, though, was too miniscule to wedge into. At most, she would only fit an arm or two inside.

She swore under her breath, and paced up and down the journal’s width. It would come down to the lock then, after all—she had to break it open, somehow. She was without any idea, though, on how to go about doing so. She was no burglar, and picking locks was well outside of her realm of expertise. Didn’t such things involve a pick, like a bit of metal wire? She looked down at her limbs. She could maybe use her arms in place of a pick, but that still didn’t deal with the lack of knowledge on how to trick the lock open. That wasn’t to mention how dangerous sticking her arms into the lock might be. She could get stuck, without any way to retreat back to the necklace before someone saw her. Violette, she thought, would likely have little hesitation in simply snapping her arms off at the shoulders, were she to catch her trying to get into her diary.

 _Think!_ She ran her fingers back through her hair. She had to think this through!

She worked her way backward. The lock was attached to the book by a leather strap. If she cut the strap, it would at least let her open the book. Violette would surely notice, but she—so far as Violette knew—wasn’t here. Estelle was, of course, occupied with her, and it would be hard to claim that a servant snuck in to peep at her writings. Lady Azhar would not take the accusation lightly, and would question each and every one, but she wouldn’t allow Violette to indiscriminately take out her anger on any of them without proof. The damage would be chalked up to mishandling by Violette’s own people, most likely. There would be no other logical explanation.

She made her way quick around the book, hurrying towards the lock. Her arms wobbled, and threatened to give out on her, dropping her on the desktop, but she grit her teeth and dragged herself up on top of the journal.

She could see where the lock fit together, to the pin driven through the leather strap that fastened it into half of the lock. Cassandra dug her fingers under the head of the pin, pulling upward, feeling the metal press into the skin under her fingernails. This was not going to stop her, she thought to herself. She was literally standing on top of Violette's most private writings, where the secrets of what she was after would surely be lurking, and the last thing standing between her and the truth was an inch-long metal pin that could easily be pried out with a letter opener.

She, however, was maybe a third the size of any letter opener that might be sitting on the desk. "I will not," she said to herself between clenched teeth, "be stopped by such a little..."

There was a soft creak from behind her. Cassandra sat up, abandoning the pin, every drop of blood within her going cold. There was someone else in the room. Slowly, she turned, heart feeling as though it were being crushed small within her chest...

~ 

"Did you hear...?"

Violette lifted her head from Estelle's belly, the Shamsi woman's fingers dragging through the tangle of hair around her head. Her eyes shifted towards the doorway leading into her study. "Is there someone in the other room?"

"Probably one of my servants," Estelle said, taking Violette by the chin until she could feel the woman's breath on her bare stomach again. "It's nothing to worry about. She is probably tidying."

Violette stared up the length of Estelle's body, into the her partner's eyes. "We're to simply not mind her?" Her fingers traced a line down Estelle's side, from her ribs down to her hip, where her thumb stretched out to lay in the groove where Estelle's thigh met the joint above it. "While we're in here, intimate with one another?"

"They know not to mind," Estelle said. "It's plainly obvious that we're otherwise occupied."

Violette laughed, the sound quiet and sharp. "That's rather scandalous..."

Estelle smiled. "This is a house of scandalous things, lately. Now go lower. I want your full attention."

Violette's hand grazed around Estelle's leg, sliding between the underside of her thigh and the bed to lift the limb upward as she pulled herself lower. "And you will have every ounce of it."

~ 

Cassandra stared out the corner of her eye, watching as the door opened, then closed, a short figure with a rounded, child-like face stepped in the room, carrying a dusting brush close, but away from the simple gown and apron of a house servant. She swallowed, willing herself to breathe. Dalal, she realized, recognizing her features even from this far off.

She had to hide, had to get behind something. She had to get into the journal, though; there was no telling when the young servant might leave, or if her work might stir Estelle and Violette from their lovemaking. Everything was lost if Violette entered the room...

 _Hide_ , her head screamed at her.

She tried to get back on her feet, but her legs refused to cooperate and budge. Move, she shouted silently, trying to bring the trembling limbs under her so she could stand back up. _Move!_

Dalal's footsteps drew closer to the desk.

_Get up, damnit, get up!_

She curled into a ball, waiting for the inevitable moment. Her legs betrayed her out of fear; she could hear her heartbeat echoing in her ears.

The footsteps stopped. There was a gasp, the clap of hands against skin.

~ 

Estelle heard the gasp, and dug her fingers down into Violette's hair, pressing the woman's face between her legs. A sharp, short cry burst from her as the point of the woman's tongue sank down into her.

Me, she thought to herself. Keep your attention on me. Pay no mind to the other room. Your focus is on me, now.

Violette went on, her fingers easing apart the cleft below her lover's mound.

Estelle sighed, a slight curl to her body, her chest rising and falling steady and quick. "Just like this," she whispered, caressing Violette. "Just like this..."

~ 

"You..." Dalal's mouth hung open in disbelief. "You're... K... Kasi?"

"Stop staring at me," Cassandra said, trying to shout as quietly as she could manage while ensuring the woman leaning over her could still hear her, "and find a knife, a letter opener, something to pry this lock apart with! We may not have much time!"

"You're," The young servant's eyes were wide in shock. Her hand slowly lifted from her side, as her duster rolled slowly away at her feet. "How are you so? How did you?"

"I can explain later! Please, just help me!"

Dalal nodded, searching quickly over the desk and through its top-most drawers, until she drew out a small, flat blade. "I thought I might find a key," she whispered, leaning down until her head was just above Cassandra.

"Of course she wouldn't leave the key just laying in her desk," Cassandra said, frowning. "Pry the pin out of the buckle, and I'll pull the strap loose."

She hopped down, standing with her arms wrapped around the leather band, looking up at the woman leaning over her. "Now," she said, nodding up at the lock. "And hurry!"

Dalal worked the knife's edge under the pinhead, rocking the blade up and down until the fastner twisted and pulled free of its place. Cassandra dug her feet into the desktop, pulling back on the strap until it slid loose, dropping down on top of her as she fell over onto her back.

"Are you alright?" Dalal reached out with two fingers, ready to take Cassandra by the arm, only to have them swatted at by the miniature woman before her.

"I can get up on my own," Cassandra muttered, shoving the leather strap aside before standing up. "You, however," she went on, "will have a much easier time opening up the cover. I need you to scan through the pages. Look for... for anything that mentions my family, my home... magic, a strange book, anything like that..."

"Kasi," Dalal said, biting her lip, "I can't read Angliean as well as I can speak it..."

"Please," Cassandra said, settling onto her knees in front of the book. "Please, try. Just tell me when you see something written down that seems unusual."

Dalal nodded, and flipped open the cover, starting to thumb through the pages. "I'll try."

"That's all I can ask right now." Cassandra breathed deep, looking over the expanse of paper stretching out in front of her. If Dalal didn't see something that stood out, maybe she might. "Thank you."

~ 

The air was a blur of bodies, of light and dark. Sheets rustled against the surface of the bed. legs slid against legs. Estelle pressed her mouth against Violette's neck and breathed out, feeling the other woman's muscles tense in her arms. Her hand held one leg up, their hips locking together crossways, skin gracing over sensitive skin.

The edges of Violette's teeth ran over the lobe of one ear, a hard, insisting push of fingers pushing sheets of hair like glossy obsidian aside. "You feel," the Angliean woman spoke between heavy breaths beside her ear, "you are like bliss, pouring into me..."

"And you are a mystery," Estelle said, turning the woman's head to capture her mouth, "are a mystery I will unfurl..."

~ 

Page after page flew by Cassandra's eyes, Dalal pausing just long enough to scan over what words she could recognize through Violette's sharp, graceful handwriting. She was midway through the book and about to turn the page when Cassandra's hands clamped down on the paper. "Stop!" the shrunken woman shouted, turning her head up to focus her voice on her helper.

"What is it?" Dalal said, looking over the words again. "Did you see something?"

"A date," Cassandra said, and pulled herself up onto the page, careful to walk over the paper without coming into contact with the ink. Even if it were months since the words were put to paper, she could not risk smudging the letters she now walked between. "The date she wrote this. It was..." Cassandra's eyes scanned over the words around her, reading them over and over. "No, that can't... that didn't happen until..."

Dalal's face was blank, uncomprehending. "What didn't happen? I don't know any of this, Kasi."

"The day that I... that I started crying in the dining room... it was just before Vio-- before Lady Wilemere arrive here. Do you remember?"

Dalal nodded. "Zaiah said later that you two needed to speak privately. About something between the two of you. That you came to an agreement about something that had been bothering you from before you arrived here."

"Right. I don't expect you to understand, I've already given you a lot to take in already. I did something reprehensible, something horrid, to two of Lady Wilemere's servants. It was why Lady Asima left me, after working as my servant for years." She looked again at the words before her feet, and shook her head. "This doesn't make any sense. This can't be... she must have written the date down wrong, wrote something... or she just failed to date two separate entries..."

Cassandra felt her heart race, the words starting to spin around her as she rushed her gaze from sentence to sentence. "The two girls that I... that I fed her... she's writing as though she knew... but I didn't give them the potion until the next... until the next..."

~ 

Their bodies felt as though they were melting, slipping, blending into to one another. Violette gasped, wrapping her arms tight around Estelle's chest, her legs locked around one of Estelle's as the other, bent at the knee, hooked around her waist. Words escaped her, language escaped her, leaving her sputtering with her fingertips dragging, again and again, down the length of Estelle's spine.

They shuddered, Violette burying muffled cries into Estelle's skin, struggling to call the woman she was intertwined with by name through waves crashing over her consciousness. 

Stay with me, Estelle thought, eyes shut tight, her pulse a violent drumbeat in her ears. Stay with me, right here, stay right here...

~ 

"She sent them," Dalal said, saying without hesitation the words that Cassandra couldn't force out. "She sent the two of them to find... to find the room."

Cassandra shook her head. "No, I... I remember the look on her face, the horror, the shock..." She fell, hands and knees crashing down onto the paper. "She looked horrified after I told her that I fed the two of them to her. She looked as though she wanted to vomit... I felt the most sinister glee at seeing how disgusted she was with what I'd done..."

"It was an act. It was all an act to cover what she was doing..."

Cassandra looked back over her shoulder, face pale as she looked up into Dalal's eyes. "That's too convenient! I killed those girls! I'm the one who was guilty!"

"The words are right there, though. You see them just as well as I do."

"You're not reading them right. I'm not reading them right!" Cassandra laid her hands on the incriminating words. "She couldn't have... who would just... just send two... just send two of her... would let herself..."

~ 

Violette's eyes opened lazily, her breath slowing to a more measured pace. For a moment, it felt as though her mind were alert, while her body lagged behind. Her legs; her whole body, really, was still intertwined with Estelle's, wrapped up in the other woman's arms.

She stirred, head lifting away from her partner's chest, easing her arm free from its spot under Estelle's neck so that she could draw her hair back away from her ear.

There was rustling and noise next door. She bit her lip, and frowned, and swore she heard two voices.

"Is something," Estelle said, opening her eyes, "bothering you?"

"There's someone else in my study," she said, shifting around, trying to disentangle herself from her lover. "I swear I hear people talking."

"I said before..." Estelle took hold of her shoulder, pulling Violette back towards her. "It's just one of my servants. They won't bother us."

Violette shook her head, and shrugged the hand from her shoulder. Her feet met the floor, hand reaching for her discarded slip. "If it's all the same," she said, "I'd rather not have anyone going through my belongings, even just to dust and tidy things up. Especially not while I'm so intimate a state."

"It's really nothing..." Estelle pushed herself up, reaching for Violette's arm, only to have the woman already stepping towards the door. She grabbed for her own slip, quickly pulling it over her head as she followed after her lover. "Please, come back with me..."

Violette laughed, reaching to brush the inside of her palm over Estelle's cheek. "If it's really nothing," she said with a smile, "then it will only take a second to ask for our privacy. Then we'll have plenty of time to lay curled around one another."

~ 

"She wouldn't just... just send them down there to die... just to get to the..."

Everything collided in Cassandra's head, all at once. Her memories, the neat handwriting on the page. Violette had long wanted the spell tome that was hidden in her family's house. Would she really sacrifice, though, two of her own servants just to ensure that the Selby house, and everything in it, would end up in her hands?

"You should talk later, with Lady Asi--" Dalal's head darted up, her eyes moving quickly to the doorway into the bedroom. "Kasi, someone's coming!"

Cassandra bolted to her feet, stumbling over once from the sudden burst of movement, before rising up again. "No, they... hide me! Violette can't see me like this!"

"Where am I... where?"

"Anywhere!" Cassandra's eyes kept looking towards the doorway, Violette and Estelle's voices becoming more distinct to her ears. "Hurry!"

Dalal's hands scooped her off of the journal, her head still turning from side to side in her search. "I don't have any... there's no... if I had my scarf..."

"There's not time for that!" Cassandra could see Violette's shadow on the wall nearest to the door. "You've got to hide me somewhere, now!"

~

Estelle's hands latched around Violette's arm. "I'm sure that there's nothing to worry about. None of the girls working here would dare to intrude upon your privacy."

"They already have intruded," Violette said, eyes narrow as they glanced back at Estelle. "There's was nothing but a wall between us. Honestly, Estelle, they could hear us making love and I don't know how more intrusive someone can get than that..."

"I'll discuss the matter with the responsible party in the morning..."

"Well, then we'd better find out who the responsible party is, now..."

~ 

"Dalal!" Cassandra could feel her heart on the verge of bursting within her. "Please!"

The young girl's eyes darted back to Cassandra, her neck twitching as her throat tensed. "Kasi," she said, a slight shake to her voice. "Please forgive me."

"Forgive you for--"

The world was a blur, then. Cassandra fell back, her head hitting hard on Dalal's palms in the split-second before everything was plunged into the dark.

~ 

"This really isn't worth our--"

"Don't tell me," Violette said, an edge to her voice as she stepped through the doorway into her study, "what is worth my time, and what isn't."

Her head swung around and caught sight of the young servant girl standing over her desk, hands clutched to her chest. Her lips were pressed tight to one another, stray hairs pulling free from the lengths of long, dark hair that were pulled back from her part to the braid that hung down her neck. "What are you doing at my desk," Violette said, moving in quick, short steps to the desk. Her hand snapped the journal shut in the same motion as she grabbed the young girl by the arm. She spun the servant towards her, the intruder's legs buckling as her feet were dragged over the floor. "What right do you have to be in my belongings?"

The girl shook her head, but said not a word. "What's the matter with you?" Violette shook her again. "Speak up, answer me!"

Estelle was quick to get between the two of them, freeing her servant's arm from Violette's grip. "Please, this is completely unnecessary," she said, wrapping her own arms around the girl. "And entirely without a point. Poor Dalal is mute. She couldn't speak her answer, even if she had an answer to give."

Violette scowled at the both of them. "I distinctly heard voices in this room."

"Those could have come from anywhere. Sound travels easily in our home."

"Then why are my notebooks open? These are private documents..." Violette lifted the journal from her desk, waving it in front of Estelle and Dalal. "Look at this! Someone-- this girl, I'd assume-- took apart the lock to get into one of my journals. What's the meaning of this?"

Estelle shook her head. "She must have just come to take some of my things back to my room. Look; here's the necklace I was wearing earlier." She scooped her pendant up, closing the latch on it in the process before showing it, chain wrapped around her hand, to Violette. "She must have seen it, and planned to return it to my room. That's why she was over here."

Violette shook her head. "And my journal? What about that?"

"That, I am not sure of. I shall have to have a word with her later-- while she cannot speak, she can hear enough to listen when I lecture her about the privacy of our guests."

"No. I don't like the look of this. She's hiding something," Violette said, her voice low, nearly a growl as she leaned towards Dalal. "And I'm starting to suspect that you're in on it."

Estelle scoffed. "That's ridiculous. You have absolutely nothing to base that on, besides a journal with a broken lock. The strap could have been loose or worn beforehand, and it may have come loose while she was cleaning."

"Journals," Violette said, voice snapping like a whip, "do not just flip open."

"If need be, I shall reprimand her for her nosiness."

"It may be your room, but these are my belongings." Violette took Estelle's hand, pulling it free from Dalal's arm. "If she's innocent of any wrong-doing, then neither of you should mind if I search her. If she has nothing suspicious on her person, then she can go on her way."

~ 

Cassandra roused to heavy, humid air, and a heavy weight pushing down on her from above. She groaned, and tried to sit up, but encountered resistance the instant her back lifted.

Air rushed around her, blowing past her ears one way, and then the other. There was only the slightest hint of light, coming in from behind her, but all she could see was red and a slow-rising pool of water around her hands and knees.

Muffled voices, arguing, found her ears. Violette and Estelle, she realized, able to draw out enough of the sound of their voices to tell them apart. Strange, she thought, that she couldn't hear Dalal. Perhaps she was just careful not to speak, and say something by accident that would give her or Cassandra away.

Why was everything so muffled, though, she wondered, trying and failing to sit up again. For that matter, why was everything so wet?

She reached up, feeling for the weight pushing down on her back to see if it could be pushed aside. It was large, whatever it was, and seemed anchored to the floor just behind her. It, too, felt wet to the touch, and warm, and...

And it was moving.

Not much, but ever so slightly. Cassandra moved her hand slower over its surface, feeling out its shape, feeling it move quicker the more her hand ran along it. It was rounded, textured more smoothly on top, while the anchor securing it in place was paper-thin, though tough to the touch.

She went still as realization came to her: why everything felt wet, why the sound of air moving was so loud, why everything smelt like the meals she would share with her fellow servants and the dull, flat taste of the sticks they used for cleaning their teeth.

Dalal was hiding her inside of her mouth, Cassandra realized. And Violette was about to search the girl, head to toe. The pool of saliva was growing deeper around her, and it was becoming plainly obvious that the girl needed to clear her watering mouth without consuming the passenger hidden inside.

Cassandra closed her eyes, and laid low, and hoped that neither Violette, nor her friend's belly, would find her in the end.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Violette catches Estelle and Cassandra in a compromising situation, and Cassandra must make the choice she has debating for weeks: shall she return to Angliea, and face her fate?

"I am not going to have you strip my servant bare, in my own home," Estelle said, her voice falling hard on every word, "in my own presence. This is absurd, Violette, and you are casting unwarranted accusations."

She stood fast, stepping back between Dalal and the Angliean bank heiress, arms crossed over her chest, her eyes meeting Violette's gaze without wavering. "We can all talk about this in the morning, when everyone involved has a clearer head. Go back to your bed. I will take Dalal to hers, and return to my own."

"I insist," Violette replied, face wrinkling around her nose and eyes as she stood, toe-to-toe, before Estelle, "on ensuring that she hasn't made herself privy to my personal affairs. My journal has been violated, and my personal letters are in disarray." She pointed towards the disheveled pile of unfolded letters covering one end of the desk. "It is my right to hold her accountable for her actions, so stand aside so I may search her."

"What are you expecting to find: your words stamped inside of her head? Written under her sleeve?" Estelle placed an arm around Dalal's shoulder, turning their backs to Violette as she lead her towards the door out onto the hall. "You have no right to demand anything from this girl. She is my employee, not yours, and I will be the one to hold her accountable. Go to sleep, and I shall see you in the morning."

Violette continued to sputter and demand, but she would hear none of it. She was already ushering Dalal out of the room, shutting the door behind her. Without a moment's hesitation, she walked quickly with the young servant, bowing her head level with Dalal's own. "Did you find anything," she whispered in Dalal's ear, "or anyone in the room when you arrived."

Dalal nodded. "And where," Estelle went on as the two of them hurried past a balcony overlooking the riad, "is she right now?"

Dalal tapped a finger to her lips. "Somehow, I suppose that's fitting." Estelle chuckled for a moment, before her face became stern again. "Go to her room. I'm sure you know where it is, as long a time as she's spent here thus far. I need to get some things to bring her back to her proper size. Go there, and wait for me. Do not stop for anyone. Do you understand?"

The young girl nodded. "Good," Estelle said. "Now go! I'll be there shortly."

~ 

By the time Estelle reached Cassandra's room, there was already a crowd waiting for her. "What the hell sort of sorcery," Sabiha wasted no time saying as she entered, "is all of this supposed to be?"

Estelle looked around the room. Zaiah was seated on the bed beside Dalal, who now held a thoroughly soaked Cassandra in her lap. The taller of the two girls was busy drying Cassandra off, wrapping the clean dishcloth around her miniature body. Myriam sat on the other side of Dalal, frozen still with dumbfounded shock at the miniature woman in her fellow servant's lap.

"I thought," Estelle said, shoulders drooping in her exasperation, "I told you not to stop for anyone."

"I didn't." Dalal slumped forward, bright red blush covering her rounded cheeks. "They all followed me, and kept asking me what was wrong until I pulled Kasi out of my mouth."

"Did you do this, Lady Asima?" Myriam pointed at Cassandra, her eyes wide as she stared up at Estelle. "Did you... did you make her small like this?"

Sabiha turned to Dalal. "Why did you even put her in your mouth? That's not permissible, in the least!"

"For God's sake, sayidah, I was hiding her, not eating her!"

Sabiha frowned, wagging a finger at the young girl. "What if you swallowed by accident? You could have killed her!"

"Would everyone please," Estelle said, raising her voice above the others as she dropped the book in her arms onto Cassandra's bedside table, "be quiet for just a moment? Kasi... Cassandra and I will make everything clear. As much as I didn't want to involve anyone beyond ourselves," she said, glancing quickly to Dalal, "I suppose there isn't much of a choice otherwise, now. Myriam, go and fetch a hot kettle. I need to brew the potion to bring Cassandra back to her natural size. Sabiha, if you'll help Cassandra back into her clothes once she's restored?"

Myriam nodded and hurried out of the room, while Sabiha rummaged through the wardrobe for a slip for Cassandra. "I know this must all be confusing," Estelle started, only to find herself interrupted by Zaiah.

"It is in some ways," Zaiah said, making sure Cassandra was neatly wrapped in her towel before turning her attention to Estelle. "But not others. Kasi has told me some of the magic the two of you had knowledge of. I imagine, by what she's shared with me, that it is the same magic that has placed her into her current state, correct?"

"You knew about this?" Sabiha stood up, clothing for Cassandra draped over her arm. "You knew and you didn't tell anyone?"

"Who was I supposed to tell? And why? It was a matter between Kasi and I, and I intended God as the only other party privy to what she shared with me. The rest of you would have likely spread word of it around as gossip, and there's no telling what sort trouble that would have caused."

"I wouldn't have been the one to do it," Sabiha said, hitting Zaiah on the back of the head with the gown she was holding.

"Someone would have," said Zaiah. "She asked me to keep what I said in confidence, so I did."

Dalal cleared her throat, careful to keep a hand around Cassandra to keep from knocking her out of her lap. "Kasi and I... we found something. In Lady Wilemere's journal, something that shocked her when she read it."

"That was what were hoping for," Estelle said. She knelt down, bringing her face level with Cassandra's body. "Cassandra, do you remember what you read in Violette's journal?"

"Of course I do. It was only a few moments ago. The shock of being popped into Dalal's mouth aside, I'm in a perfectly settled state of mind." Cassandra smirked, arranging herself to face out towards Estelle. "The girls that I fed to her, Estelle; she knew what I would do, all along. She knew I wouldn't let them out of the room that the book was stored in, not with their lives intact. She sent them down knowing that I would do something heinous, just to have leverage to take the house from me. The house, and the book."

Estelle nodded. "She counted on you to kill them?"

"Apparently." Cassandra gave a weak laugh, and shook her head as she stared down at the towel swaddled around her. "I have been a childish, impulsive person, and children can be such destructive creatures when they are cross. It seems Violette knows myself just as well as you do."

"But why?" Myriam had come back into the room, easing herself through the doorway, making sure it was shut tight before speaking. "Why would she want a book of black magic?"

Sabiha looked at her from across the room, raising one eyebrow. "You mean, aside from the fact that it lets you shrink anyone you want smaller than doll-sized, making them easy to simply have disappear?"

"Coupled with the fact," Zaiah added, "that she's a wealthy and powerful banker, and an ambitious businesswoman?"

"That doesn't mean she would use something so powerful, something that dangerous," Myriam said, and handed the hot kettle she'd brought to Estelle, as well as a cup and saucer. Estelle emptied a small pouch of tea leaves and other ingredients into the cup, and began pouring the hot water over it. "She has ambitions. That certainly doesn't make her a murderer and a sorceress."

"It doesn't," Cassandra continued, "However, I remember fragments of things I overheard as a child. But I need to have some sort of confirmation of what I'm remembering, just to be sure what I saw in my dreams wasn't just something produced by the potions I've been given to make me so small." She looked up at the book on the table just as Estelle was opening it to the page she needed. "Do you remember," she started, causing Estelle to look back down at her, "what we spoke about before I started spying on Violette? About the pocket in the back cover of the book?"

Estelle frowned. "If there is a pocket. We don't know that for certain."

"I know there is. I could feel it, feel there was something under the lining. I need you to cut the cover open, cut into the lining." Cassandra took a deep breath, holding the towel wrapped around her as she stood up. "I know you don't believe me, that you're sure it's just wishful thinking on my part, but I just know that there's something in there, something that can confirm my memory of things."

There was the rustle of paper as Estelle turned to the book's back cover, pressing her fingers against the paper lining the inside surface of the board. She nodded, then turned to Myriam, who still stood by the door. "Go and get a knife."

It took only moments for the girl to return, and hand the knife over to Estelle. "I hope, for once," Estelle said, looking down once more to Cassandra before cutting into the paper, "that you're right."

The blade sliced cleanly into the paper, cutting a breach into the cover that ran from top to bottom. The moment she drew the knife back, a slip of folded stationary, and an envelope, spilled out from inside. The servants, save for Dalal, who still held Cassandra with her, swarmed around the open book, trying to see what fell out from the secret pocket. "Back away, all of you," Estelle said, setting the knife down before shooing the crowd away. She unfolded the note, blinked, and set it down in Dalal's lap for Cassandra.

"It's from Lady Milford," she said, unable to get around her own surprise. "She knew about the book?"

Cassandra nodded, and dragged the letter towards her. "If I remember things correctly," she said, taking a deep breath, "they all did. Her, and Eveline... Lady Starling, rather... my parents, Violette's parents..."

"Well, go on then," Dalal said, holding the letter in her hands so that Cassandra could focus on reading. "Read what it says."

The letter was older, the paper yellowed from oil and sweat that must have soaked down through the cover from her and Estelle's hands touching it for years. The sharp, straight lettering-- the penmanship of a school mistress-- was as dark and legible as it must have been the day it was locked away inside of the book:

 

_"Miss Cassandra Selby,_

_I do not know with any certainty when you may find this letter. Perhaps never; perhaps your discovery of it will not prove necessary. Nonetheless, I have been obliged by your parents to summarize for you what this object is, and why it is in the joint possession of our families._

_The volume you hold in your hands is the compilation of an Angliean scribe by the name of Theodonus of Amlyn of ancient Angliean and Cymrian magic, the oldest known lore of this nature in the Realm. Legend suggests that much of it may be the work of the legendary sorceror Myinla, consort of Queen Umbria..."_

 

"We don't need a full history lesson of ancient Angliea," Dalal said, twisting her lips around one another, annoyed by the dragging pace of the letter. "Does this Lady Milford always sound like this?"

"Yes," Cassandra and Estelle replied in unison. Cassandra rubbed her eyes, trying to scan over Lady Milford's handwriting. "I'm sorry, I'm trying to make sure I don't miss anything important. A lot has happened in the last few hours, and my head is still reeling from it all. Please, be patient with me."

The others nodded as Cassandra looked along, from line to line, trying to find where the former school mistress' history lesson stopped, and more pertinent information began. "Here we go," she said at last after skipping over a lengthy paragraph:

 

_"...it was almost three centuries after the book's initial composition that it was entrusted to a circle of women, the distant ancestors of the Selby, Starling, Wilemere and Milford families. After the magic contained within the book was used to horrific effect to torture the enemies of a corrupt Crown Princess, these four-- trained in sorcery themselves, which they used to end the Princess' madness, as well as her life-- swore a pact with one another to guard the book from misuse._

_It has remained that way for ages, passed between families to ensure that it never stayed in one place for too long, handed down from one generation to the next. It was my family that guarded it, my own parents keeping it safe-guarded, when Violette was born to her parents. She was next to inherit the book, and the responsibility of protecting it, and it seemed likely that she would._

_As she grew up, however, Helen and Thomas Wilemere worried that their child was exhibiting behavior that might deem her unsuitable for the task of guarding the book and all it contains. Despite her parents' best efforts to curtail her ruthlessness, she was a terror to her schoolmates, dominating her peers in the Academy to serve her bidding. More than a few young girls that I have seen have whimsical ambitions of being Queen. Violette, however, was the first that I have seen to fill notebooks with a process on how to achieve such a otherwise ludicrous goal._

_Myself, Lady Eveline Starling, and your parents, the Lady Florence and Mr. Albert Selby, as well as the Wilemeres, met together one afternoon while Violette was away at school. You were very young at the time, Cassandra. Dolls were still a novelty to you, and you begged me with excitement in your voice to have tea together with two of your dolls and yourself-- I believe you'd named them Lady Angela, and Lady Annebelle. Making good on that promise with you the following day has remained one of my fondest memories of you._

_The six of us met, and decided that you would inherit the book in Violette's place. It was agreed that, as Violette showed no sign of her ambitions slowing as she reached adolescence, that this would be the wisest choice, provided that Cassandra showed no sign herself as she grew older of similar desire to utilize the magic contained within the book..."_

 

"So her parents didn't know about her visit to speak to my mother," Cassandra said, looking up from the letter. "When I was a little girl, probably not more than a few years after the meeting Lady Milford refers to here, Violette visited our house and demanded that my mother turn over the book to her, now that she was an adult by law."

"She must have found out that the inheritance was changed, somehow." Estelle lifted the tea cup to her face, wafting the warm steam by her nose. "There, that's ready. Dalal, I'll give you the cup and saucer, if you'll help Cassandra drink from it."

"Just a minute," Cassandra said, crossing her arms. "I'm not done reading yet. And there's still the envelope that fell out with this."

"I don't want to leave you shrunk longer than you need to be," Estelle said. "You can read the rest of it once you've recovered your proper size."

"I may not have the chance! Violette knows something is odd, now. She'll be on edge, looking for something to spring upon." Cassandra shook her head. "Just give me a moment more to finish this, at least. I'll wait on the envelope, but at least let me finish this letter."

Estelle sighed, but set the cup back down. "Alright. But hurry. We do all need to sleep at some point, and I imagine you don't want to drink cold tea."

"Yes, yes..."

 

_"...It is imperative, then, that you guard the book intensely. You must not allow it to come into Violette's possession. This will already prove difficult, as the Wilemeres have done much to help finance much of our mutual lives, and there is no preventing Violette from inheriting the business of their banking empire without raising too much alarm. Modernity is not ready to know that magic still lives in our world, nestled deep in its soil, asleep. Should she possess both financial and supernatural power at her disposal, there is no telling what calamity she might bring upon Her Majesty's Empire, and upon the lives of every woman and man alive in this age._

_I know that it is a monstrous weight to carry, but it is one that our families have born against people with terrible intentions for generations. You may not feel prepared for what has been dealt to you, but we will be there to guide you, to stand for you, to ensure that you are guided towards wisdom and not overwhelmed by selfishness. And we may not be alone; the world is vast, young Miss Selby, and there are many who know of and know how to best keep the power you now hold._

_God bless, and Godspeed, and know that your Mother and Father would not entrust this to you, if they doubted the goodness within you for a second. We believe in you, Cassandra. I can only hope that you will do the same._

_With my best Hope and Regards,_

_Irene Milford"_

 

The room was silent and still. It took Dalal setting the letter down, and the rustle of paper that came with it, to break the silence. "Are you done reading, Kasi?"

The miniature woman was shaking, leaning forward, her hands searching for a handhold on Dalal's lap to lower herself down onto her own legs with. "I think so," she said, the words strained as they came from her mouth. The others drew closer, struggling to hear her voice, which seemed to fold up as small as she was. "They never told me about this," Cassandra said. She pressed her hands onto her knees, fingers gripping tightly to the bare joints. "They never told me any of this."

"They must have planned to," Estelle said. "Your parents surely planned to tell you once you'd come of age."

Zaiah nodded, and scooped Cassandra out of Dalal's lap, holding the tiny woman close to her breast. Cassandra felt warmth radiate up through the taller woman's clothes, and sighed, resting a wet cheek against Zaiah's dress. "Most probably. They were probably afraid that, if they told you at too young an age, Violette may have been able to trick you into handing over the book."

"What about the rest of these?" Myriam held up the envelope that had fallen out with Lady Milford's letter. "They might have more to say."

Cassandra nodded, but didn't lift her head from Zaiah's chest. "They may, but I don't think I can quite handle more of the truth of things, right now. I'll look at them once I've woken back up from Estelle's antidote."

"That's probably for the best. I'll keep the envelope and the letter here." Estelle opened the drawer under the table, and set the envelope inside. "I should probably take the book itself back with me, though, to have it locked back up. The last thing we need, at this point, is for Violette to get her hands on it."

"Agreed." Cassandra turned herself around, pushing out on Zaiah's hands to give her room to move. Her caretaker took a hint from her, and set Cassandra down in her lap. "I'll have the tea now," she said, looking to the cup still brewing on the table. "I think I've spent more than enough time like this."

Estelle took the cup in her hands, and set it down, careful not to spill it, on Zaiah's lap in front of Cassandra. The tiny woman crawled forward, grabbing hold of the edge of the cup before pulling herself up on her feet. The scent of it, spiced and heady, filled her head. She closed her eyes, breathing deep-- it would be her last taste of her former-servant's handiwork, she realized, if things went as they should. "I just want to say," she said, leaning over the hot drink, "that I appreciate everything that each of you has done for me. For guiding me. For protecting me. Even for something as simple as a conversation with me."

She smiled, and closed her eyes. "I've never appreciated, never even realized, how much I was cared for, by so many people. So thank you, for changing that in me."

She brought her lips down to the tea's surface, and let her them part, the warm scent and taste of spice and earth and a faint sweetness lapping against her tongue. Cassandra let the drink fill her mouth, again and again, swallowing slow each time, the heat of it settling down into her muscle, her bone. She could already feel the swell of something within her as a haziness settled over her mind like the fog rolling upward over the hills from the Tymes.

There would be time for truth and action, she assured herself, once she was awake. But for now, she would sleep, and everything else could wait until after.

~ 

The world blurred back into focus, and the first thought in Cassandra's mind as she awoke, much to her own amusement, was how simple a pleasure it was to wake up tucked into bed.

She turned her head, and saw Zaiah sitting up in a chair by her bedside, her own eyes opening from drowsing in her seat. "You're back to yourself again," she said, chuckling for a moment to herself as she patted a hand through the blankets on Cassandra's arm. "It must be a relief for you."

"It is," Cassandra said, moving her limbs to regain a feel for her muscle and bone. "Though it's as disorienting going from small to big, as it is the other way around. It's a little like being a baby again, and not really feeling sure of your arms and legs."

She looked around the room from her pillow. Aside from Zaiah, it was empty. The other servants, and Estelle, were gone. "How long," Cassandra asked as she turned back to Zaiah, pulling herself towards the bed's headboard to let herself sit up, "have you been here?"

"The whole night. Estelle insisted we all go to sleep, but I didn't feel it was fair to leave you alone."

Cassandra laughed. "She was always practical like that. Telling me not to stay up too late with my books, or to not stay out in the sun too long."

"She was ready to stay down here with you, herself." Zaiah looked across the room, at nothing in particular that Cassandra could see. "We told her that she needed sleep just as much as we did. People would be suspicious if she was tired in the morning, and might start asking questions about everything that happened last night."

They sat together, Cassandra in the bed, and Zaiah in her chair, for several moments as Cassandra thought of what to say next. So much needed to be done today, and she was both prepared and not for what was to come. Thankfully, it was her companion that broke the quiet. "You spoke last night," Zaiah said, still with her eyes turned away, "as though you won't see us again."

"I doubt that I will, after today."

Zaiah bowed her head. "You intend to go through with your choice, then. To return to Angliea, and face trial?"

Cassandra nodded. "Even," Zaiah continued, "if that means that you will be executed? Whatever Violette's involvement, they will surely find you guilty. You were, still, the one who carried out the act."

"I know. That's how it has to be, I think. It's not fair for me to hide from it." Cassandra sat up, folding her sheet forward before turning back to Zaiah. "Would you help me wash and dress? I think... I think I would like to go with you to your prayers, this morning."

Zaiah laughed for a moment as she stood up. "I remember you saying that you're not a very religious person."

"I'm not," Cassandra said as she rose. Her body felt the sudden pull of fabric as her nightgown-- when had someone dressed her, and who?-- dropped down over her legs when she stood. She walked to the wardrobe. "But I suppose a little clarity of mind wouldn't hurt, right now."

~ 

It was strange, she thought to herself as she walked down the hall at Zaiah's side. The shortness of days left to one's self seemed to lift an enormous weight from her shoulders. Each footstep fell with such lightness, such ease, that it felt as though she was not walking on the ground at all, but instead floating just above it's surface. Each stride fell in time with her heartbeat, from her bedroom door down into the heated pools of the servant's baths. She breathed the steamed air deep into her lungs, feeling the other servant's hands scrubbing dirt and oil from her skin, leaving it clean and smooth to the touch. When the woman stepped back to wash her own limbs, Cassandra took hold of her arm and shook her head. "I'll do it," she said, and took hold of the brush herself. Zaiah's fingers uncurled from around the handle, relinquishing her hold of it to Cassandra.

She wanted to say she was someone new, but that wasn't entirely true. It was as though layer after layer had hardened around her over the years since her parent's disappearance, until was showed on the outside was just a rotten parody of the girl she'd once been. It took months of labor, by so many hands, to crack down to the person she once was, the girl her parents had raised.

It seemed wrong to let it all pass on the gallows, for that to be the payment for all of their efforts. It would be as wrong, though, to let the things she'd done before then go unanswered for.

The other servants turned, briefly, looking back at her as she sat behind them, legs folded under herself as  they rose to begin their prayer. She let the sound of it roll over her, let her heart fall in time with it, repeating her promise to act as was just, to do what needed to be done. She was frightened, the more she thought about it: she did not want to die, no more than anyone else would want to. If there was a way out of that degree of finality, would she take it?

Perhaps. What life would she have, though?

She shook her head, and kept her eyes closed, listening to the rise and fall of the womens' prayers. There was no use pondering possibilities like this. If it came to that, if she somehow escaped the noose, she would think of what to do next at that junction. Her plans never had foresight, were always rushed to conclusions. For once, she would take this one step at a time, and unfold her own plan as circumstances allowed.

They rose, moving towards the kitchen as a group. Several of them asked where she had been, which she answered with the story she and Estelle had agreed to: she had been on an errand out of the city for Lady Asima, and that she had only just returned from her visit. None seemed to question this, and the women who knew the truth simply smiled, and kept silent about what had passed the night before.

Salima started to direct the women around the kitchen, pointing each to their task, when Cassandra spoke up. "I would like," she said, "if it would be alright, to serve Lady Azhar and the others their coffee, this morning."

Salima blinked, but nodded, pointing her to her place. "If that's what you'd prefer, then."

Her hands moved from gas burner to water pot, to coffee and spice, from instrument to instrument with all of the precision she'd learned in her months in Kasabla. Salima walked past her as she made her rounds of the kitchen, food already moving out the door to the diners in the home's center. She smiled, laying a hand on Cassandra's shoulder. "It's smelling good," she said. "You'll have to make some for all of us, later."

Cassandra smiled, though a pang of sadness gripped her heart for a moment. She didn't know, she realized. Most likely, Zaiah and Estelle were the only ones who knew how intent she was on returning to her homeland. "If I have the chance to," she said, looking back for a moment to the woman who first brought her into this family's home, "I'll be more than happy to do so."

With a nod, Salima went on her way, leaving Cassandra to finish preparing her contribution to that morning's meal. She smiled, heart as steady as her hands as she poured each cup, stirring in bit of sugar and cinnamon before setting the hot cups onto a silver tray.

She took a deep breath, feeling her body pull the warm, rising column of steam from each drink. It was time, she decided, and took the tray up in her hands. It was time to face Violette.

~ 

"I feel that we've accomplished a great deal here, thus far," Violette said, dabbing a bit of honey from her lips with her napkin. "With my financial reach, and the territory covered by your commercial operation, we could easily cover the entire planet with our common trade. It would be a phenomenal opportunity for the both of us."

Estelle curled her fingers around a glass of water, stroking the flat of her thumb against smooth surface. "I can't help but notice," she said, meeting Violette's gaze from across the table, "that you've not, at least to my knowledge, elaborated much on what, of interest, you would be introducing as far as product being offered through my mother's commercial channels."

Violette's mouth tightened, her eyes shifting from Estelle to Lady Azhar. The elder woman, though, nodded in agreement with her daughter. "I've noticed that, as well," she said, folding her hands neatly on the table, servants working around her to clear the table of empty plates and soiled napkins. "You are a banker, after all, Lady Wilemere. I find the financial power you potentially bring to my business highly useful. Your wealth would go a long way to acquiring vessels that would expand my reach well beyond this continent. Yet, I wonder what benefit you would gain out of this, yourself. It seems odd to invest into a business that you have no physical stake in."

Violette's face softened into a smile, her hands turning outward, pointing across the table with open palms at Lady Azhar. "I would be collecting a share of your profit. That seems more than a fair dividend for what I would be providing you with."

"Investing, though, in a business that is for all intents and purposes well outside of the Angilean sphere of influence," Lady Azhar went on, "seems rather odd. You must surely have an interest in offering something for sale that I wouldn't otherwise have access to. If so, I would very much like to know what you have in mind."

"Of course," Violette said, and laid her hands back on the table, laying one over the other in imitation of the elder businesswoman seated across from her. "I do have a few projects that I am pursuing back in Angliea. I am sworn to confidentiality to the parties involved, however. They would hate for someone else to capitalize on their idea before they are able to."

Estelle smiled, and raised her glass to her mouth. "It would be terrible," she said, watching Violette through half-closed eyes, "if someone stole a secret that was rightly yours."

Violette's gaze shot from Lady Azhar to Estelle, jaw setting rigid as her hands wrapped tighter around one another. Before she could speak, though, Lady Azhar glanced across the riad, looking pleased. "Ah, our coffee. And attended to by one of my favorites in the kitchen, at that."

Footsteps tapped against the smooth stones that paved the floor of the open-air room, the hands gripping the tray steady, the dishes on top not shaking for one second. Estelle's eyes broke from Violette, though only for a moment, but just long enough to share a smile, and a look that spoke volumes across the space between the red-haired woman in servant's dress, and herself.

 _If this is what you want_ , her expression seemed to say. _If you're sure this is what you want._

She was sure.

She set the tray down onto the end of the table, spilling not a single drop.

"My Ladies," she said, making sure that her voice was clear and unmistakable. "Your coffee."

Violette stiffened in her seat. Her head turned towards Cassandra, lines showing around her eyes as they opened wide at the presence of her rival. Her lips trembled for a moment, fingertips tapping against the table top.

"Miss Kasi," Lady Azhar said, a pleasant look on her face as she turned towards her servant. "I've been looking forward to your coffee all morning since Sayidah Salima said you would be preparing it."

"I'm flattered to hear that, my Lady," Cassandra said, and bowed her head to her employer before setting her drink in front of her. "I was careful not to over-boil it, this time."

"I shall judge that, but I am confident in your improvement."

Violette rose slowly from her seat. "You... You're..."

Cassandra smiled, and bowed in kind to Violette before handing the woman her own coffee. "Miss Kasi," she said, chucking for a moment at needing to repeat herself. "I was brought in off the streets some months ago. Lady Azhar and her family are quite fond of my skill at brewing Shamsi coffee. I've mastered the timing of the process very well."

"You're... You damned..." Violette's eyes twitched. She slowly raised one hand, pointing a finger towards Cassandra. "You're...!"

Estelle smiled, but kept her head bowed, focusing her attention away from the two women standing on the other side of the table. Lady Azhar, though, looked up in concern. "Is something the matter, Lady Wilemere?" 

"This woman," Violette shook, fingers uncurling from her palm, hand poised as though ready to grab the arm of the woman standing, unflinching and steady, in front of her. "This woman! This is the sorceress I spoke of before! The woman who murdered two of my servants, and countless others, preparing them as sweets!"

"How dare you make an accusation like that!" Lady Azhar was quick to her feet, her hands pressed down into the table as she leaned towards Violette. "On what grounds do you--"

"Lady Azhar, there is no need for you to defend me." Cassandra sighed, and looked for a moment towards Estelle's mother. "What Violette says is true. I am Cassandra Selby, of Ebion-on-Tymes. I am the sorceress who is responsible for the things that she has told you about."

The elder Shamsi woman looked franticly between her servant, her guest, and her daughter. "Did you know about this? That this... this criminal has been working in our home? That I have exposed everyone in this household to someone who has perpetrated such grisly acts?"

"I have known, yes." Estelle kept her head bowed. Her voice, though, spoke steady and quiet, lowered only in respect to her mother. "It has been my hope that Cassandra's time here would reform her. She has grown considerably since she landed on our shore."

"She is still a murderer! How could you keep this from me? From your mother, of all people?" Lady Azhar shook her head, then turned back to Cassandra and Violette. "While what my daughter has said may be true," she continued, her voice still shaken from shock, "I cannot allow you to hide as a fugitive in my home. You must answer for what you've done, Lady Selby."

"I am well aware, my Lady." Cassandra nodded. "With your permission to be dismissed, I will return to Angliea to face trial."

"You are, Lady Selby." Lady Azhar sighed, contemplating the cup in front of her for a moment before returning her eyes to Cassandra. "I regret having to do so, but I do not appreciate being deceived. Especially not under such grave circumstances."

Without hesitation, Violette seized Cassandra's arms, her fingers pressing through her rival's sleeve as she pulled Cassandra towards her. "I'm afraid we will have to complete our negotiations some other time, Lady Azhar. It is imperative that I return with Lady Selby at once, so that she may stand trial. Once the matter is settled, once and for all, I shall return to finalize our partnership." 

"Very well." Lady Azhar settled back into her seat. "My servants shall see to preparing your belongings for travel back to Angliea."

Violette nodded. "I will have a ship ready by nightfall. Lady Selby shall stay with me, in the meantime. No one is to be allowed to see her until our departure." She pulled on Cassandra's arm, walking away from the table with her in tow. "Come now, Cassandra. I believe you've spent enough time playing pretend in this country."

Cassandra stumbled, her feet dragging across the stones for a moment until she found her stride again. She gave one last look back at Estelle, her companion struggling to hold back emotion while she remained at her mother's side. Then Violette pulled her into the hall, past the columns and arches that bounded the riad on all sides, and Estelle slipped away from her sight.

~ 

She was lead out of the Azhar household like a dog on a leash.

A guard of several of Kasabla's police traveled with her and Violette, keeping close to Cassandra as she was taken down the hill and into the city. In the harbor, steam was rising from one of the ships' smokestacks-- the one, Cassandra was sure, that would be leading her back to her homeland.

Lady Azhar's servants led a procession behind them, transporting chests and luggage carrying Violette's belongings with them. Cassandra kept glancing back, looking for the faces of her friends among the group, but she recognized none of the women walking with them as those she had grown closest to. It was probably better that way, she thought; she didn't want any of them to see her in chains and bound wrists. Nor did she want to see any of them try to challenge what Violette was doing, or rally towards her rescue, or something equally foolish.

Salima would probably shoot down such a plan, she thought with a smile, thinking of the group of them arguing about trying to come up with a rescue plan. Zaiah would propose it, she imagined. It would be a clear, decisive plan that seemed perfectly rational. Myriam would worry if the plan posed a risk to any of them, while Dalal would insist on going forward with it, regardless. Sabiha would scold them all for being so rash, but go on in the next breath to state the virtue of defending someone who had worked to pay for their crimes.

And then Estelle would stop them all, she told herself. Tell them that this was Cassandra's choice, her decision, and none of them-- herself included-- had the right to stop her. And that would be the end of that.

Violette looked back at her, giving a jerk to the chain bound to her restraints. She stumbled forward a step before catching herself from falling. "You're moving too slow," Violette said, a stern look on her face before she turned forward again to continue their journey to the docks. "There's no point in stalling, Cassandra. If need be, I will drag you back to Ostinum, right up into the courthouse if need be."

"You won't need to," Cassandra said, her voice quiet and steady.

They made their way through the market street. The stalls and booths closed for the night, while the lights above them glowed warmly from candles and gas lanterns. Cassandra looked and wondered, then laughed at herself. It was so many months ago, now. The girl who gave her that half-loaf of bread behind her aunt's back probably wouldn't remember her, anyway. She was just one person in a crowd, easily forgotten.

She looked down at her sleeves, gathered together at the ends where her handcuffs pinched in on them. It was just the way that she and Violette, that any of them really, looked at people like those looking out their windows at her, now. Hardly worth thinking about, hardly worth noting. They were someone, something else. Labor for factories, staff to clean rooms and attend to kitchens, to look after this and that menial task. There wasn't time, wasn't energy, to think on what their own dreams and ambitions were. The loves and affairs they pursued, the goals they placed ahead of themselves, the family and friends who knit together their own worlds.

All of that existed, though, regardless of how much someone like the two of them, these two aristocrats and all others like them, thought of them.

The moon was high above the harbor by the time the two of them reached the docks. The servants made their way down to the cargo hold, while Violette handed Cassandra off to the guards. "You'll be confined to the ship's brig," she said, a grin on her face as she stood tall, toe-to-toe with Cassandra. "A guard will be posted with you at all times to ensure you don't attempt anything stupid as we travel."

"I've grown out of childish plans," Cassandra said, smiling back in return. "Though I don't know if I can say the same for you. Do you think enough people saw you leading me? Did it feel good enough?"

Violette's palm struck across Cassandra's cheek, sending her stumbling sideways a few steps. "Make all the snide little jokes you want. Your days are numbered, and your trial, I'm sure, will be short and to the point. I hear there's predicted to be quite the crowd for your execution."

"I'll make sure to give them a good show," Cassandra said.

Violette grit her teeth, and pointed towards the ship. "Go and lock her up," she said, spitting the words at the guard, "before I rip the tongue from that busy little mouth of hers."

The guards gave a quick nod before marching Cassandra to the ship. The door to the ship's hold creaked open before them, a sailor throwing out a short gangplank to the dock to let them on board.

Cassandra stopped, planting her feet, looking back one last time to the mountains that backed against the city of Kasabla, its houses, its minarets and inns, sparkling as myriad and bright as the stars above them. Off in the distance, she knew, there was a house up in the hills. In that house, there was a terrace that looked out onto the city. And on that terrace, there would be a woman with hair the color of the night sky and eyes as rich and warm in color as the greatest, steadiest trees of her homeland, poised with all the fire of both the deserts beyond this city and the furnaces of the factories both here and in Angliea.

"Goodbye," she said, before the chain tied to her wrists pulled her through the door, "my Estelle."


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cassandra returns to Angliea, prepared to face her fate, but also planning for one last strike to bring down Violette with her.

Rain drummed against the glass porthole that looked out from Cassandra's cell onto the gray, choppy waters of the Tymes, making for a low, steady noise underneath the thrum and bellow of the steamship's engines that rattled further down into the vessel. The view was a few feet off of the waterline, and the murky river occasionally slapped against the thick glass, obscuring the world outside for a moment before sliding back down the hull.

The buildings and church steeples, the great bell towers of the halls of Parliament, the grand, newly built drawbridge over the broad river all rose up from the horizon and came into view out of the cloudy sky as dark silhouettes that gradually took on color and detail. It had been so long since she'd seen a rain like this. Showers would occasionally travel up the shoreline, dropping a light rain as it traveled from north to south, around the mountains that stood to Kasabla's back. A drenching rain like this was entirely alien to the center of commerce of the vast Kalifahat of Ul-Shams, though. Cassandra wondered, for a moment, how long it had been pouring like this, and how long the rain would continue.

Perhaps it would continue through to her hanging, she thought. At least that way, no one would notice if she were crying. She didn't want anyone to think she was afraid. She would carry herself, strong and resolute, to the very end, and the rain would mask the pain of never seeing Estelle, or any of her companions of the past several months, again.

"Miss Selby?"

The bars of her brig cell rattled, startling her out of her thoughts. She turned and looked back, and saw the sailor standing on the other side. She was young, fresh-faced with red cheeks, and brown hair like chestnut wood that kept trying to pull waves of itself out of the ponytail she'd pulled it back into. She stood straight, looking as serious as she could manage, despite her shirt wearing a little too loose on her.

She turned around, and smiled at the girl. She was carrying a tray of what looked and smelled like cereal. The prisoner's breakfast, Cassandra guessed. "Is that for me?" she asked, mostly out of courtesy. She was the only person being held down here, and the meal was too sparse for someone who had as much work to do as the sailor.

"It is," the girl said, and opened a metal gate set into the barred door, pushing the tray far enough through where Cassandra could grab onto it. She waited for her prisoner to walk over and take the tray before closing the slot up again.

Cassandra sat back on her bunk and sighed, staring down at the bowl. "I never really liked cereal," she said. The chain holding her handcuffs together clattered against the tray as she picked up her spoon, and started to prod her food with it. "I miss fruit. I used to have oranges imported, and would have them with breakfast, or just to sip on their juice on a cloudy day like this. And the Shamsi would have honey with their breads and fruits at breakfast-- so sweet, and warm." She laughed, the sound too quiet to echo in the tight quarters of the brig. "It felt like I was swallowing up a bite of the sun when I had some a dish of dates."

The girl smiled, her seriousness fading at how conversational her prisoner was. "It sounds lovely," she said. "I've never had the chance to sample the food in Kasabla. I'm usually too busy to sight-see."

"That's a shame. That's really a shame." Cassandra tasted a spoonful of her breakfast, and smiled at the hint of sugar on her tongue. She looked across her cell to the sailor still standing on the other side.

"I've eaten it enough times, myself," the girl said. "It's too bland without something else in it."

Cassandra shook her head. "I appreciate it. I assumed the gesture was yours, anyway. I doubt Lady Wilemere cares much about a prisoner's comfort."

The girl stepped closer, and let her fingers curl around the cell bars as she leaned against them. "That's what I don't quite understand," she said. A lock of hair fell loose from the band pulling it back behind her neck, and laid against her cheek. "What you're being tried for, and all. I've been on-ship for so long, I haven't really been in Angliea long enough the past few months to really know what's been going on. All I know is that it's some sort of a murder, though you don't seem the type to commit one."

"It's a murder," Cassandra said, "though I appreciate you thinking me too good for something as dirty a crime as that." She stirred her food slowly, watching the different colors of oats swirl around one another. "It's a murder, and a lot of other things too, I suppose, things I don't really expect most people to understand. Which, I suppose, will make trying to defend myself all the more difficult."

"In part, I don't even know if I want to defend myself, anymore. I owe it to the people I've hurt to speak plain and true about what I've done. The girls that died, the friends who have supported me that are tangled up in all of this. To just the... the decency of every last one of the Queen's subjects. At this point..." She sighed, and looked up at the girl. "At this point, I only want to see everything tended to, just and fair. Even if it doesn't end well for me, I would rather hang and know that responsibility was meted out the way it ought to be, than get off and know that no one has been made to pay what they should."

If she could melt through the bars, Cassandra thought, the girl would do it in a heartbeat, as much as she was leaning against them. "It was a conspiracy, then," the girl said, an excited hush in her voice. "What you were caught up in, I mean."

Cassandra tucked a lock of her own hair back behind her ear and chuckled. "I guess you could call it that," she said, spooning up another mouthful of her food. "A very old conspiracy, at that."

"Can you tell me more about it?"

Cassandra shook her head. "You read romances, I take it?"

"I do, miss. Pick a few up, whenever I'm in port. We sometimes pass what couple we have 'round on board to read as we try to get some sleep."

"It's a little like that, then. A sordid, tangled thing with poor decisions on several peoples' parts. Mostly on my part though, in this case." Cassandra sighed, and set her spoon down again, handcuffs once more clattering against her tray. "But on the part of others, as well. It'll all get brought to light soon enough, at least. Will you be in Ostinum long enough for the trial?"

The sailor nodded. "Keep your ears open. You'll hear the whole thing."

"I'll be sure to, miss."

The sailor started to walk way. "One last thing," Cassandra said, surprised at how sharp her voice sounded. "I've one last thing to ask."

The sailor stopped and looked back over her shoulder. "Yes, miss?"

"If you stay long enough for the execution," Cassandra said, her mouth drier than it had been only moments before, "please keep my Estelle in your thoughts."

The girl blinked, confused, but nodded nonetheless. "Someone you know, miss?"

"Someone I love," Cassandra said, her smile flickering in strength on her lips. "And one of the ones I've hurt most in all of this."

The sailor nodded before turning back to leave. "I'll be sure to then, miss."

 

Hours later, it was Violette who looked in on her through the bars, a police lieutenant to either side of her as the door to the brig cell was opened. "She should go easy," she said as the two, with short, cropped hair that matched the dark color of their uniforms and polished boots, stepped inside to retrieve Cassandra. "She hasn't been much trouble on the journey here."

"I'd hate to bother my host," she said, only to feel the sting of Violette's fingers striking her cheek.

"Let's keep our thoughts to ourselves," Violette said as she stepped aside for the officers walking Cassandra out of her cell. "You'll have plenty of time to share them later, in front of the judge."

She was lead forward, up groaning, spiral stairways and down narrow halls, until she emerged out on deck. Ostinum's air was as dense with the smell of soot from smokestacks and chimneys as it was with the fog the hovered each morning over the river, as it did now. The rain had slacked some, the drops falling on her head lighter than the thick splashes of water that had drummed against the steamship's hull and woke her.

A carriage waited for them at the end of the docks, open-roofed, with an iron loop in the floor where Cassandra's shackles could be secured. One officer pulled her up into the vehicle, while the other secured a chain between her handcuffs and the floor. "You've decided to parade me in front of everyone," Cassandra said, and frowned.

One of the officers stepped back out, and helped Violette into her seat before rejoining them. "All of Angliea deserves to see the perpetrator of these crimes," she said, settling herself into her seat before gesturing for the carriage driver to urge the horses bound to the vehicle to pull them forward. 

"It's a good thing the guards are with me, then." Cassandra smiled, lips tight together, pressed thin against one another. "Everyone in town will have a good look at your face."

Violette sneered at her, turning up her nose a bit. "You must think this is some sort of a joke. I don't see how you are able. You must be losing some of your sense at the thought of the gallows."

Cassandra laughed, the sound quiet against the clatter of hooves and wheels over the cobblestone beneath them. "Everyone's death is inevitable, Lady Wilemere. I guess mine is coming sooner than I would have liked, but yours will come soon enough."

Violette grabbed for her chin, pulling Cassandra towards her in one swift pull. The chain tied to the floor rattled loud, while the officer seated beside Violette kept her eyes on the banker's catch. "You are extraordinary smug for a dead woman. You've always been too damn cheeky, too sure of yourself, considering your holding a worthless hand in all of this. You have no spells, no potions to aid you, Cassandra. You have no friends. None of the Azhars will defend you; the Lady of that house won't allow her reputation to be sullied by your precious Estelle. You are indisputably guilty of your crimes. So just what," she said, running the edge of her fingernails along Cassandra's throat like the sharp of a knife, "do you think you have left to protect yourself with?"

"I shouldn't talk about people who can't be present." A corner of Cassandra's mouth turned upward. "Did you know," she said, a laugh shaking her out-stretched throat, "that the Shamsi believe that gossip is a sin?"

Violette snarled, and pushed Cassandra back into her seat, the wood backing to the leather bench creaking as the weight of Cassandra's body struck it. "We'll be done with your childishness soon enough," she said, folding her hands neatly onto her lap. "And not a moment too soon, at that."

Narrow sidestreets flowed out onto wider roads, which turned onto the grand avenue that ran from the Old Gate to Parliament. It felt as though they were driving between great mountains, great, sheer peaks formed from cathedrals and ornate, stone buildings that housed the offices of the Queen's government, the banks that tended Her money, and the churches where Her faithful congregated. And below them all stood crowds of people under the white, red, and gold Cross and Lion of Her Majesty's empire.

Violette stood, smiling back at the thousands who lined the road. Her hand reached down and snapped up the chain binding Cassandra, and pulled. Cassandra's shoes scraped against the floor of the carriage, legs buckling as she was pulled to her feet.

She felt as though she were naked. She might as well be, for how much the people stared and pointed. This was her, they must be thinking, Cassandra told herself. This is the woman who used dark magic, ancient forbidden things, and fed the offspring of the poorest, bred like lambs for the slaughter, to the most wealthy. The most vile of the class that they envied and hated, an example to be sacrificed so that those who profited from the factories, those who worked them on the fields and pastures, on ships and railroads, so that the bankers who owned every crumb of what they held, might look benevolent by comparison.

That was the joke in it, she thought. She wasn't being brought to court for murder. That was just a convenience for paper. It was to give the people lining the streets something to be angry at, something that wouldn't threaten the lives and property of her own class.

The columns of the High Court building stood, tall and strong, at the last bend in the avenue before it approached Parliament. "What a lovely show," Cassandra said, glancing sideways at Violette. "Are they being paid for your little holiday?"

She was answered by another pull on her chain. Her legs buckled and brought her  to her knees this time, the crowd cheering as Violette buried her fingers in Cassandra's red hair. Cassandra bowed her head, and breathed steady, trying to ignore the red heat in her knees where they dragged against her skirt and the wood boards. "I'll take that as a no," she answered, and waited for the carriage to stop.

~ 

The guard led her into the building and through the doors of the courtroom; in keeping with how much of a show Violette wished to put on, they'd chosen the grand court for the proceedings. The benches and gallery tier above were as packed with viewers as the streets had been. Of course, she thought, looking around as she was lead to the judge, those who managed to find a seat inside the building were dressed far more richly than those gathered in the streets that led her here, or the hundreds clustering onto the courtroom steps. How many of the women now staring down at her had been her customers? How many had bought tin after tin of the sweets they now condemned?

Flashbulbs exploded into life as she reached the front of the courtroom, the chain bound to her handcuffs locked into place at a latch at the bottom of the podium she stood before. Voices whispered and echoed around her as Violette took her seat, the cacophony of rumbling noise silenced only by the entrance of the judge.

The judge moved like a specter, black robe flowing about her as she ascended the stairs to her post. She was older, at least as old as Irene was, if not more so. Which only made sense, Cassandra supposed. One was not given the post of one of the most powerful courts in the nation without a substantial body of experience. Which, more often than not, came with a substantial number of years of service.

The judge's eyes were deep-set, shadowed over, with lines marking under them from age. Her white wig's curls settled on her shoulders as she struck her gavel down to silence the room. "I bring this court to order," she said with a voice as stern as an academy teacher, sharp and precise, with each word spoken with an impact as potent as the crack of the gavel itself. "In the case of Cassandra Selby, brought before this, Her Majesty's court, in the 44th year of Her reign. God save our Honorable Queen, her Government, and this court of Her justice."

The room echoed as those gathered in the gallery replied in kind before taking their seats.

"Cassandra Selby," the judge began, looking down at her on the stand, "You are brought before this court on charges of murder and sorcery, which you have used to perpetrate a heinous trade in the sale of live, human flesh for consumption by your peers. Do you understand, clearly and without question, the crimes of which you are accused?"

Cassandra nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat. "I understand, your Honor."

“Furthermore, you understand that the penalty for these crimes, should you plead, or be found, guilty, is execution by hanging?”

Cassandra breathed once, twice, slow and steady. “I understand, your Honor. I fully understand the penalty for the crimes in question. May I, however, speak before I enter my plea.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Cassandra could see Violette smiling. She was quick, though, to return her own focus on the judge. “If it is to clarify the plea which you are entering, Lady Selby, then yes, that is your right.”

Cassandra gave a nod, and held fast to the stand. This had to be done, she reminded herself. It needed to be done. “Over the past several months, I have gained a considerable sense of the gravity of what I have done, as well as what I have been entrusted with.”

Violette sat up straight, her head slowly turning towards Cassandra, her mouth slowly undoing itself into a frown. “Much of what has been passed down to me is chalked up to a mix of legend and history, so much so that is no longer clear how much of is one, or the other. I don’t really know whether to believe that the book I possess was compiled by Umbria’s sorceress, or if that’s something that was invented in the intervening centuries to explain where the magic it contained came from. Maybe, once you strip away all of the lore of it, it was just something to make us proud as Anglieans, proud to possess and protect such an enormous power.”

The judge tilted her head back, eyebrows raised. “You refer to the tome of magic that this Court’s investigation has determined to be in your possession?”

“Oh, it’s not in my possession, your Honor. I’ve relinquished my right over it.” Cassandra smiled, watching as the color drained from Violette’s face, the banker desperately trying to obscure her reactions. “I was never a proper person for its safe-keeping. No one in my generation, among the families involved in its guardianship, were suitable to look after it.”

“This is a very serious matter, Lady Selby. That book is a crucial part of the investigation into your crimes, and is meant to be confiscated as a dangerous weapon.” The judge leaned forward, looking over her lectern at Cassandra. Her eyes came into view then, bright, piercing eyes. A little like Estelle’s, Cassandra thought, or Lady Milford, or a mix of the both of them. She smiled at the thought, then collected herself as she looked back up at the judge.

“I understand that, your Honor. However, the book was taken from me, months before.”

“Taken? By whom?”

“By my servant, your Honor.” Violette went as rigid as a corpse in her seat. Cassandra was sure she could see her jaw clench and lock, the gears grinding in her head as she conspired to find a way back to Kasabla. As far as Cassandra was concerned, that would never happen. Not now. “We had a disagreement over my behavior, and she abandoned my household, taking the book with her in the process. I only discovered this much later.”

The judge frowned. “And where has your servant gone, Lady Selby?”

“Your Honor, I don’t mean to be glib, but part of the problem with having something taken against your will is that you are unsure of where your possessions have gone off to.”

The judge’s gavel came down again, while the elder woman’s eyes searched the crowd like a hawk seeking out its prey. “Order! These proceedings will be closed to public view if those in the gallery cannot keep themselves in order.” 

The crowd settled back down quick at the judge’s threat, and the room once more fell to silence. “Public record,” the judge continued, “states that you had a servant by the name of Estelle in your employ for several years’ time. Is this the individual you spoke of having a quarrel with, Lady Selby?”

“She is, yes.” Cassandra suddenly felt calm, as though she were in freefall. She no longer had sense of the distance she was passing through, or the imminent approach of the ground below. There was only the judge’s voice: everything else had simply ceased to be. “However, I have been unable to obtain better identification paperwork for her than the name she gave me upon my hiring her. I am under the impression now that I what I was given, was simply an alias.”

The judge nodded, hands folded atop one another on her lectern. “Very well then, Lady Selby. An investigation will remain open after this matter, to attempt to locate and secure the book you employed in working your sorcery, for the safety and public security of Her Majesty’s empire. That said, are you now prepared to enter your plea?”

“There is,” Cassandra said, raising a hand with one, pointed finger, “one other thing.”

“Is it pertinent to your plea, Lady Selby?” The judge’s voice was stern again, impatient. “This is not a tool to be used to delay the administration of justice, young woman. It is intended to allow the accused to aid in the business of that administration.”

Cassandra’s head shook. Her hands came away from the stand, chest swelling as she stood back. “No, your Honor. I understand what will happen. I already stated my comprehension, and I apologize if I was not previously clear. But my final statement is in regards to this case, because I wish to state before this court, your Honor, that I did not act alone in the murder of Lady Wilemere’s servants.”

The crowd began whispering again, careful this time not to make so much noise as to irritate the judge. “You are aware that your servant, Lady Selby, under Angliean law cannot share guilt in this matter. Especially if they were currently functioning under your employ at the time. You could have easily coerced their participation in your crime.”

“I am fully aware of that law, your Honor. However, it is not my servant that I accuse of acting in concert with me.”

“Then who,” the judge continued, “do you accuse?”

Cassandra closed her eyes, and waited for the room to explode. “Violette Wilemere.”

~ 

The room exploded.

There was no pause, no moment of shock before the noise of everyone shouting at once filled the court. The judge rose to her feet, standing as straight and sturdy as the pillars supporting the edifice of the front of the building. "That is quite enough! I will hold the entire gallery in contempt of court if order is not returned to this room immediately!" She brought down her gavel and turned to a pair of officers stationed at the door to her private offices. "Remove and cite anyone who refuses to retake their seat. I will not have a circus made of this court." The two moved quick to a doorway leading to the upper level, the crowd shuffling back into their seats before anyone could demand they remove themselves.

Cassandra looked back at Violette amid the chaos. The woman was on her feet with the others, hands wrapped around one another like claws. She looked ready to bare teeth, to spring forward and tear the throat from Cassandra's neck. Try it, Cassandra thought at her, smiling. You already have a taste for blood, after all.

"Lady Selby."

The judge's voice snapped Cassandra back to attention, her eyes turning back to the judge. "You had best elaborate on this accusation, young lady."

"Of course, your Honor." Cassandra took a deep breath, picturing the letter Irene had written in her mind, along with the pages from Violette's journal. "Lady Wilemere sent her two servants into a hidden cellar within my home. A cellar that she knew existed, by virtue of knowledge she'd obtained from her parents, as well as mine. They were bait, your Honor. She intended for me to kill them for intruding upon a family secret. Once I was found guilty and executed for their deaths, as her bank is the mortgage holder over the property, possession of the estate would default back to her in payment of the outstanding debt. Once the house was hers, she would thus take possession of the book."

"Your Honor," Violette said, returning to her feet. "May I be allowed to speak on my behalf?"

"Of course, Lady Wilemere. Please, step forward."

Cassandra shifted to one side as Violette climbed the steps to the stand, the banker's pointed stare watching Cassandra until she reached the top. "If I may, your Honor, this is an utterly preposterous accusation. For one, what Lady Selby says is hearsay. Where in the world would she have heard such an outrageous theory? It was either concocted out of desperation to avoid the noose, or crafted by her among co-conspirators. We have already seen one such party, Lady Eveline Starling, who was willing to face imprisonment for aiding this fugitive."

"Furthermore," Violette continued, "even if this theory of hers was grounded in the slightest scrap of truth-- and we have nothing, your Honor, to confirm or verify anything that Lady Selby has said-- what exactly would be my motivation for possessing a book of sorcery?" Violette paused, turning momentarily to the gallery. "What would I even do with such a thing?"

She turned back to the judge, a cool smile on her face as she laid her hands lightly on the rail at the front of the stand. "Cassandra's use of magic was born out of desperation. She felt she had no recourse to keep from bankruptcy, nothing but employing knowledge which has long been taboo. That was the desperation that drove her to create her delights. It was that desperation that lead her to murder two of my servants. Cassandra approaches every detail of her life, frightened and immature, acting on impulse, reacting to everything instead of planning ahead."

She raised a hand to her chest, smiling up at the judge as she laid her splayed fingertips against her collarbone. "I am anything but a desperate woman, your Honor. I have helped build, meticulously, over the past decade the financial backbone of Her Majesty's empire. The wealth of my bank, and the credit it supplies with that wealth, is what oils the engines of economic progress in this country. That is the power I bring to Angliea. I have no need of some magic book to secure my fortunes."

The judge nodded her agreement, turning her gaze back to Cassandra. "Lady Wilemere has made her point, Lady Selby. What evidence can you produce to support your accusation against your peer?"

Cassandra felt chilled, the wet sensation of sweat on her brow as she stared down at her hands. She could feel just as easily Violette's shadow falling over her. "You're as pathetic as ever, Cassandra," Violette said under her breath, looking down her face at Cassandra's bent-over form. "Desperately grasping at straws, at imaginary stories, to explain yourself and your actions. There are no stories anymore. Your parents are gone, your friends are gone. There is no one left to hear and sympathize with them."

"Shut up," Cassandra said through grit teeth. She cleared her throat and stood up, turning to look Violette in the eyes. "I, frankly, have had enough with being talked down to by you. I have friends. I have support. You have worked, meticulously, to strip them all away from me. You have reduced me, and everyone I love and care about-- more than just me and my dearest, at that!-- to little more than stepping stones in your pursuit of power."

Violette covered her mouth, struggling to hold back her laughter as she looked between the judge and Cassandra. She stepped back, one eyebrow arched as she looked on at Cassandra's coiled figure. "My pursuit of power? I hold all the power I could want. You really are a madwoman, and a threat to the entire country."

"The only threat to this country," Cassandra hissed out through clenched teeth, "is you."

"Ladies, while I am sure that some in the gallery find this squabble between the two of you amusing," the judge said, her voice ringing out over the courtroom, "I am starting to lose patience with you both. Lady Wilemere, please return to your seat. You've more than made your point. Lady Selby, I will ask you one more time: are you able to produce evidence to support your accusation against Lady Violette Wilemere?"

Violette turned slowly, walking step-by-step back down to the lower gallery, leaving Cassandra to stand, shaking, before the judge. "I," she said, wishing she held the writings she so easily pictured in her mind, in her hands. "I cannot, your Honor."

"In that case, Cassandra Selby, in the matter of the charges of murder and sorcery that have been brought before you in this court..."

"Your Honor?"

The judge's hand and gavel hovered, poised to strike down. The elder woman's eyes swept over the courtroom. "Who has spoken?" she said, setting her instrument back down again. "My God, I haven't dealt with such a tempestuous court in ages. Who is speaking?"

A woman stood at the back of the lower gallery, shedding a long, black shawl, which she handed off to a tall, dark-skinned woman standing beside her. Underneath, a long, colorful gown sparkled in the courtroom lantern light, an ornate design of birds ascending a mountain to meet their king embroidered in gold and many-dyed threads along the center panel, while the shoulders were decorated in a flowering design. Black hair was drawn back in a braided bun at the back of her head, while the women standing around her all wore the same, simple back dress that Cassandra wore on the stand.

Cassandra slowly turned, knowing the voice but disbelieving her ears. "Es... Est..." she stammered, eyes wide with wonder. "All of... you're all?"

"My name," Estelle said, her eyes directed at the judge, "is Estelle Asima bint Azhar Malika Abdahad. Lady Selby was my employer of several years, your Honor."

Voices gasped throughout the courtroom, women leaning towards one another, pointing at the stranger in their midst and asking one another questions. The judge simply clapped her gavel down again, and nodded to the officers who were already standing in the upper gallery. "Lady?"

"Lady Asima is sufficient, your Honor."

"Lady Asima, then. Are you also the individual who took the book in question in this investigation from the estate of Cassandra Selby?"

Estelle nodded. "I did, your Honor."

Violette looked back over her shoulder from her seat, face red with rage as she watched Estelle. "And where," the judge continued, "is this book currently?"

"In my mother's household. I've seen to its security there. No one as access to it, save for myself."

"Very well then, Lady Asima. This court will address the matter of transferring ownership of that volume to the court at the conclusion of the current proceeding." The judge nodded, glancing for a moment at Cassandra, who immediately turn back to face the front of the room, before returning her attention to Estelle. "You stated, further, that you have evidence in your possession that substantiates the accusation made by Lady Selby?"

"I did, your Honor." Estelle turned to Zaiah, who handed a folded-up paper, as well as an envelope, to her employer. "I have a collection of documents contained within the book, discovered by Lady Selby, my staff, and I, that provides sufficient substance to Lady Selby's claims to prompt an investigation of Lady Wilemere's possessions under Angliean law." She handed the packet off to Myriam, and urged the young girl sitting at the bench's end to delivery it to the judge.

"I object!" Violette was on her feet again, vibrating in place. "This is... these are fabrications, obvious fabrications meant to slander me."

The judge turned her eyes on Violette. "I am the judge, here, Lady Wilemere. That determination will be mine to make. Please hold your tongue while I do so."

Violette gestured back at Estelle and her servants. "They could easily have written them at any time!"

"I imagined that might be a concern of the court, your Honor," Estelle stated. "Which was why I've included in that packet, samples from public record of the handwriting of Lady Florence Selby and Mr. Albert Selby, as noted on Cassandra's birth certificate, and Lady and Mr. Wilemere's handwriting on Violette's. The Office of Records was also kind enough to obtain writing samples from Lady Eveline Starling and Lady Irene Milford, as well, who were both very gracious enough to provide them while I was in transit from Kasabla to Ostinum. Those should, ideally, provide sufficient material to gauge the veracity of the handwriting in the letters and notes provided."

The judge nodded and accepted the papers from Myriam, who hurried back past Violette to return to her seat. She raised up each page, her eyes scanning from side-to-side, only pausing to look down at something else she had laid out on her desk. "This is curious," she said, half under her breath. "This is quite curious. And quite inflammatory, if I understand what I'm reading as I believe I understand it." She held up one note, looking over it at Violette. "Lady Wilemere, this document dated on the 21 of June, 1882, has your signature on it. Do you recall writing a letter during this period?"

"I cannot say for certain, your Honor." Violette's voice was calm, though there was a tremble where once there had been absolute calm. "I've written a great number of letters, documents, other such pieces in my thirty-five years."

"I also possess a letter within the same envelope, dated approximately 17 months later, signed by your parents, Lady Wilemere. While your mother has unfortunately passed from this world in the intervening time between this letter and the present, and your father was declared not of sound mind, either from grief or from a still-incomprehensible mental condition, or some combination of the two, the signature from your mother is both sufficiently similar, and sufficiently unique, to match with the signature on your birth certificate, accounting for the time and physical effects of aging between those points."

"Your Honor," Violette said, "in the hands on an excellent forger, which any of Lady Asima's staff could be, as well as the Lady herself..."

"Lady Wilemere, do you have any evidence in support of the accusation that Lady Asima could have forged these documents?" Everyone in the room flinched at the severity in the judge's voice. "Do you intend to hold yourself to a different standard than Lady Selby is being held to?"

Violette's face went pale white. "I simply wish to put forth..."

"Lady Asima may not be an Angliean citizen, but she is still recognized for her station in this court, her previous employment to Lady Selby notwithstanding as it is currently dissolved!" The judge rose from her seat, still holding the letter from the young Violette in her hand. "She is as entitled to the respect of Her Majesty's laws, whether she is in violation of them, or beseeching them while within her Dominions!"

The judge cleared her throat, her face as set and as impassive as the stone statues the decorated the building's exterior. "Furthermore, this document lays out the implication, Lady Wilemere, that you have been conspiring against your own family, as well as the Selbys, the Milfords, and the Starlings! That you abused your inheritance of the Bank of Angliea to acquire the titles, in their entirety, of each family's home! That you used your position of ownership of the equity of the Selby estate to attempt to coerce them into turning over ownership of a possession-- namely, the book that is central to this investigation-- that was not rightfully your inheritance!"

"It was my inheritance!" Violette shoved past the people seated by her, charging back up to stand, where she pushed Cassandra aside as well. "It was mine!" Her voice cracked, her shoulders rolling forward under her blouse as she clamped her hands down on the rail. "They took it away from me and gave it to that brat!" She thrust a pointed finger towards Cassandra, who stood, unmoving, in the back corner of the stand. "It was meant to be mine, should have been mine, had they simply followed the rule that had been handed down through our families for centuries!"

"Our families all agreed, however," Cassandra said, raising her voice above Violette's sputtering. "It's in the most recent of the letters in that set, from Lady Milford. Our families mutually agreed to transfer the inheritance of the book from Violette to myself."

"Lady Selby's point stands," the judge said, setting the letter in her hands down. "The original agreement of inheritance was one signed to by all involved parties on Angliean soil. By law, the agreement can be altered by the currently bound parties of the agreement. Which is what happened."

"I was a party in the agreement!" Violette pointed at herself. "I didn't agree!"

"You were the benefactor of the agreement," the judge corrected, emphasizing the difference between them. "Until the book is rightfully, and legally, in your possession, it is not your decision to whom it should belong."

Violette straightened herself up, looking down at Cassandra for an instant. "Nonetheless, my parents are both no longer parties to the agreement. I have, as a result, inherited their role as party to the original agreement. And I disagree with the transfer of the inheritance. Additionally, the book was stolen--"

"Taken," Cassandra corrected.

"--from Lady Selby's possession by Lady Asima. So none of the families originally party to the agreement that was made more than a thousand years ago currently possess ownership of the book."

"That is true," said the judge. She seemed unruffled by the point, though, which served to feed the calm that was coming over Cassandra's heart. "However, that matter is easily resolved."

"The simple fact is, the original agreement made between your families, centuries ago, cannot account for an irreconcilable difference between one party, and the remainder of the group. There is now no way, given the current state of your relationships with one another, to reach an agreement between Lady Selby, and Lady Wilemere. Further, the object of the agreement is currently in the possession of a party outside of the original agreement. Namely, Lady Asima."

"Lady Selby," she said, turning to face down towards Cassandra. "How did you come upon possession of the book? Given the untimely loss of your parents, I must imagine it was not handed down to you as intended."

Cassandra nodded, and stepped back to the front of the stand. "Lady Asima and I found it, together. We were searching the house for a way to prevent myself from falling into bankruptcy."

"You and Lady Asima found the book together? You were both present at its discovery?"

Cassandra nodded.

"Then, as far as I'm concerned, the line of inheritance ended when the process of handing the book down was interrupted by the disappearance of the previous Lady Selby and her husband. The book was discovered on the family's property jointly by the present Lady Selby, who is the descendant of the previous owners, and Lady Asima. Thus, it is in their mutual ownership, which means that Lady Asima's current possession of the book stands. Any further questions as to its ownership between the two of them will have to be referred to the appropriate party in Lady Asima's city of residence."

"This is preposterous!" Lady Violette said, shoving Cassandra out of the way again. "You can't just nullify--"

"I oversaw a provincial court for years, Lady Wilemere! I know how to attend to an inheritance question in this country, so be silent." The judge pointed for Violette to step aside and away from the rail, waiting until she had done so before proceeding. "Because there is apparently one last matter raised by your family's letters, Lady Wilemere. And it is a very grave matter, indeed."

"Your Honor, I assure you..." Lady Wilemere started, her spine seeming to wilt as the judge spoke.

"From what I've read, you have no room to give me any assurances on anything, Lady Wilemere. Your own writings, supplied by your parents and their peers, raise the question that your reasons for wanting to retain possession of the book in their guardianship was to perpetrate a conspiracy against Her Majesty's authority. To depose her as the sovereign ruler of this Empire!"

Violette looked frantically around the room, seeingly only the bewildered faces of the gasping, gossiping crowd. "Your Honor, I would... I would never... those are just the idle daydreams of a child..."

"You were well of-age when you wrote this! I'm of every mind to turn over every possession you have, in your home and every place of business, to uncover the depth of this plan." She pointed down to Violette, like the hand of God, Cassandra thought, descending through the clouds to pronounce judgement. "Officers! Seize this woman. She shall be held by the order of this court for questioning, and her property examined, top to bottom, to uncover the gravity of her plan!"

"I've done nothing! I've done nothing wrong!" Violette shrieked as the officers who had brought Cassandra in seized her, locking her arms in theirs as they pulled her down the steps to the accused's stand. "I will fight this, with every ounce of my being! I will fight this to the end!"

Estelle watched, and smiled, waiting for Violette to be dragged past her before exiting her bench onto the center aisle. "Your Honor," she said, voice steady in comparison to the uproar that had just been silenced. "May I approach?"

"You may, Lady Asima." The judge retook her seat, breathing deep before setting the papers on her desk aside. "With that addressed, Lady Selby, there is, nonetheless, the matter of your plea. While the documents provide sufficient evidence to investigate a charge of conspiracy against the Crown against Lady Wilemere, they do not explicitly state her participation in the deaths of her servants. Further, even if they had, the fact remains that whatever Lady Wilemere's intentions in sending her servants to your cellar, you were the individual responsible for taking their lives. Thus, there is still the question of your guilt in the matter of their deaths. That is also not to mention your practice of sorcery, which is explicitly prohibited, as well."

"That said, Lady Selby, how do you plead in the charges of murder and sorcery that have been brought against you?"

Cassandra waited for Estelle's footsteps to cease. Her hand reached next to her, and wrapped its fingers around her lover's, who held her back just as tightly. She cleared her thought, and spoke with half a lifetime's worth of sureness in herself. 

"I plead guilty, your Honor."


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The grand finale: will Cassandra go to the gallows? Will she find love in Estelle's arms? What will happen?

The courtroom was entirely silent, and entirely still, for the first time since she entered. Cassandra could hear her own pulse in her ears; could hear the creak of the wooden rail at the front of the accused's stand as her hand tightened their grip on it. Her tongue dragged over her lips, her mouth watering to keep her throat from drying out as she listened to herself speak. Because she was speaking, but stood so far outside of herself that she was no longer aware of speaking the words, herself.

"I plead guilty, your Honor."

Though her eyes remained fixed on the judge, Estelle's hand wrapping tight around the palm that lay at Cassandra's side. "If... If I may, though, I wish to ask the court to attend to a few matters, before my execution."

"Which matters, Lady Selby?"

"I wish to enter a Will before the court, as I've not had the opportunity to do so in these past few years. To be frank, I was sure that I would have a great many years ahead of me where I wouldn't need to worry about having such a document drafted." Cassandra bowed her head, and laughed to herself for a moment. "Though given my circumstances, I probably should have thought that through more."

"Very well, Lady Selby. That is your right."

Cassandra took a deep breath. "The land surrounding my family's home is to be sold, with the money earned divided in half once the remaining debt in my family's name has been paid. Half will be divided evenly between the families of the girls that I fed to Lady Wilemere, to see to the education and care of their kin. The remaining half will be given to the establishment of a school provided by the City of Ostinum for the children of the working classes, and orphans. I made my fortunes through the sacrifice of their lives. None of them in the generations to come should ever have to face such a future as being fed to the appetite-- literal or metaphorical-- of my own class."

She took a deep breath and looked back over her shoulder, to the group of Estelle's servants still seated in the back of the courtroom. "The house itself, and its outbuildings and garden, shall be gifted to Miss Zaiah Ruhulla." She smiled, watching the shock spread across the lean, towering woman's face. "I know it still isn't the same as getting to see the countryside together," she added, "but it will give you a place to start, and a place to come home to, for adventures of your own."

"Finally, I legally cede any right I have to ownership of the tome once under the stewardship of my family, leaving its protection entirely to Lady Estelle Asima Abdahad and her descendents, by blood or legal declaration, as she deems fit." She nodded to Estelle, and stepped back from the rail. "She will keep it from misuse, your Honor. I can assure you of that."

The judge's hand lifted her gavel. "Is that all, Lady Selby?"

Cassandra nodded. Two guards approached behind her, waiting at the back of the stand for the judge to issue her sentence.

"With that settled, then, Lady Cassandra Selby, I hereby sentence you to..."

"Your Honor?"

The judge frowned, looking forward over the edge of her lectern. "Lady Asima, I don't know how the law is handled in Ul-Shams, but if you would like to speak, may I suggest you do so before a judge pronounces their sentence?"

"My apologies, your Honor." Estelle took a deep breath. "If I may add one more thing before you pass sentence, however."

"You may, though this will be the last thing I hear in this matter today. Enough of today's proceedings have been taken up by additions and accusations and other, periphery matters." The judge sat her gavel back down, folding her hands like a tent as she leaned over them. "I have had more than enough of this circus, and would sooner have the public move along, so that the rest of the issues before this court can proceed."

"You have my assurance that this will be brief, your Honor."

"Very well. Continue."

"I wish to petition a stay of execution of the sentence on Lady Selby's behalf," Estelle continued.

Cassandra turned to her, slackjawed, raising her still restrained hands as she tried to speak. One of the officers behind her, though, tapped her on the shoulder. "Leave this between the other Lady," the cop said, whispering beside Cassandra's ear, "and the judge. She doesn't have much patience for interruptions, especially at this point."

"But I didn't... How can she...?" Cassandra turned to look at the officer, who simply blinked in surprise at her.

"You're telling me you want to be hanged, Miss?"

"I..."

The judge sat back in her seat. "On what grounds," she said, patience stretched thin in her voice, "and by what criteria?"

"It is my humble belief, your Honor, that Lady Selby's behavior is owed, in part, to the sudden and abrupt departure of her parents from her life. Her actions since that time have been borne out of desperation. She did not wish to be left penniless and at the mercy of Lady Wilemere. Desperation became her defining quality, which led her down a path to the short-sighted decisions that have brought her before the court."

"That is all well and good, but I cannot rightly set aside the punishment of a murderer." The judge shook her head, and reached forward for her gavel. "I understand that you are trying to protect someone who may be dear to you, Lady Asima, but that is insufficient reason to interfere with the meting out of justice."

Estelle shook her head. "What will it serve, though, to hang this woman? What will be learned from this?" She turned away, looking out on the crowd gathered in the gallery behind her. "A punishment must, and should be given for the things that Lady Selby has done. I won't question this. But what will be learned by putting a rope around her neck to snap it in front of all of you? Because, I can assure you, you will not look to this as a reminder of the preciousness of human life." Her eyes narrowed, her face severe as she walled down the steps to the gallery aisle, her gaze panning over the women and men seated in the room.

"No, you won't watch her hanging, and think, I should think carefully of what I do with the lives that are mine to use for my profit. You do not see yourselves as the same as her." She pointed up at Cassandra, though her eyes remained on the crowd. "She's different than us, you assures yourselves. She's rotten, somehow."

"And yet, and yet, how many of you bought her delights? How many? I bet that if I asked for your names, I could find nearly all of you in her ledgers. I might even remember you visiting her home, myself. The horror of what she was doing, of what we--" her voice came down hard, pressing a hand to her breast, "--were doing didn't bother any of you in the slightest until it was convenient for one of you to bring the matter up. You were all content to swallow those little, squirming bodies, bound up in string and chocolate, cinnamon and vanilla, every flavor your heart could desire, until someone felt that something could be gained by airing all of this out in public."

She turned back, walking quickly back to the stand. "So, that is the trouble in all of this. For this to truly be fair, your Honor, for justice to truly be dealt here, you would effectively have to condemn nearly the entire aristocracy of Angliea to death for willful participation in Lady Selby's sorcery. We are all as guilty of murder as she is. Everyone in this courtroom is, doubtlessly, and then some. Perhaps even yourself, your Honor. It's not my position to judge."

The judge raised an eyebrow. "I most certainly have not, young woman."

"Then I offer my apologies, your Honor."

"Lady Asima, please get to your point."

"My point is," she said as she climbed the stairs back to the stand, "that we are making a scapegoat of Cassandra, and her own actions, to absolve ourselves of our own crimes. Are you, your Honor, prepared to hold to account every last buyer of Lady Selby's delights?"

The judge paused, folding her hands in front of her mouth as she closed her eyes. "I cannot, in good faith, say that I am intent on doing so," she answered at last.

"Then I propose a different fate for Lady Selby." Estelle smiled, glancing back at the still-dumbfounded Cassandra. "I ask that the court turn over custody of Cassandra Selby to myself. She has, as we've heard, made arrangements for the sale and distribution of her property in Angliea. I make two additions to her previous statements: first, that the miniature human 'delights' currently kept on the Selby property, provided that they are still alive, also be delivered into my custody to be tended and cared to, with the hope of one day rehabilitating successive generations back to their humanity."

The judge nodded her assent. "And the second?"

"The second is to have Lady Selby's title and citizenship stripped from her. She will return to Ul-Shams with me, and spend the remainder of her life looking after the beings that she has trapped in their shrunken state. To serve them as she once asked others to serve her. They will be her obligation. Her execution will be postponed indefinitely until such a time, should it prove necessary, that it can be demonstrated that all efforts to reform Lady Selby's behavior have failed in their goals."

All eyes in the room moved from Estelle to the judge, who sat in silent contemplation at the Shamsi woman's petition. When she finally stirred again, her own gaze shifted from Estelle to Cassandra. "Lady Selby," she said, pointing her gavel at the red-headed woman. "Do you understand the terms of the agreement that Lady Asima has put before me on your behalf?"

Cassandra's mouth moved silently, before she blinked and regained sense of herself. "I... I do, your Honor. I understand completely."

"You also understand," the judge continued, "that should Lady Asima or a party designated by her, declare before this court that you have failed to follow the terms of this agreement, that you will be brought back to Angliea to face execution?"

"I... I do, your Honor."

The judge sighed, and brought down her gavel with a heavy strike. "Then I hearby grant the stay of execution of your sentence, Cassandra Selby. You are to make any final preparations necessary to expedite your departure under the terms agreed to, and leave the country under the custody of Lady Asima at once. I hope you treasure the mercy this court has showed you today, Miss Selby."

Cassandra breathed for what she was sure was the first time in several minutes, the two guards at her back leaving their posts beside her as Estelle approached, and took her hand. "I..." she said, voice still shaking from the shock of the back and forth that went on around her. "I will be sure to, your Honor."

"Good. Now get out of my court." The judge stood, and struck her gavel once more. "This court is adjourned. Lady Asima, Miss Selby, you are dismissed."

~ 

Estelle's servants clustered around them, the entire group moving as one until they were out in the grand lobby of the courthouse. Cassandra found a seat on a bench at one side of the room, under a large painting of Umbria atop a hill with her band of knights and a crowd of commoners, pointing into the hills to where they would lay the groundwork of her capital. An even larger crowd of reporters and photographers, bearing box cameras and umbrella-like flashes, swarmed to speak to the effectively-pardoned Selby, but were quickly beaten back by the combined shouting and flailing of Sabiha and Dalal, a confusing mix of Angliean and Shamsi that caused the crowd to peel away, a few at a time, looking for someone less overwhelming to speak to regarding the case.

"You stopped them from hanging me," Cassandra said, repeating the statement she'd sputtered out at least two dozen times since exiting the courtroom. "Why did you stop them?"

"Because I believe what I said," Estelle said, shaking her head. "There's no justice in putting you to the noose. Not any real justice."

"But I..." Cassandra looked up from her seat, hunching forward as she looked up into Estelle's eyes. "I killed those girls. I killed them. And I'm allowed to live, when they weren't. What's fair in that?"

Estelle knelt down, and took Cassandra's hands in hers, wrapping her own around them. Spending time in the cold brig of a steamer had made her forget how warm the touch of Estelle's skin was, how comfortable and reassuring it felt to feel her touch. "Because it isn't always about a life for a life," Estelle said, pressing her hands firmly against the backs of Cassandra's palms. "It's also about making good, from the bad that you have done. Nothing, not even hanging you, will give those girls their lives back. But you can see to it that such things won't happen, anymore. You can repay the lives that you stole away from generations of the delights."

"Will that be enough?"

"Who can say?" Sabiha spoke, returning from the group after shooing away a group of photographers that had attempted to make another try at capturing a picture of Cassandra and Estelle. "You'll have to face up to what you did, someday." She smiled though, stepping around Estelle to pat Cassandra on her head. "I think, though, that it will be a good start."

~ 

The Selby house looked alien to her, Cassandra thought as Dalal drove the rumbling car up the driveway towards the front of the house. It had been so long, so many months, since she'd left it with...

"Wait," Cassandra said, turning to Estelle beside her. "Eveline was brought to court and held weeks ago. Who's been minding the house since then?"

The front door to the manor opened, the tall figure of a gray-haired woman, dressed in black, with a stern, pointed face. Her hand held a pistol, which she quickly holstered as she descended the stairs. Never in her life, Cassandra thought as she stood up while Estelle stepped out of the car, had she ever been so happy to see Irene Milford.

"I was worried," Irene said, waiting for them at the bottom of the porch steps. "Eveline's only just called me in the past half an hour. It was the soonest she could get to a phone, and that was only after berating the warden's clerk until they let her use the thing." Irene only then took in the sight of the packed car, startled at the number of unfamiliar faces seated inside. "Good God, there's a whole contingent of you! Where the hell did you all come from?"

"They're with me, Lady Milford," Estelle said, breathing deep as her servants followed out after them. "Servants from my mother's estate. They'll help with gathering up Cassandra's belongings. well, all except for Zaiah, apparently."

"And which one of you is she?"

Zaiah stopped to face Irene, while the others walked around the house, chattering among themselves about the look of the building. "That would be me," she said, taking a few steps towards the elder woman. Irene's eyes went wide, then blinked, trying to collect herself with how much taller-- a full head-height and then some-- the young Shamsi woman was compared to her. 

"Apparently," Irene said, after taking a deep breath, "there's much going on here that Eveline, as usual, has failed to fill me in on. I'll have my staff put together lunch. It's past mid-day and as you've be holed up in court the entire time, I can't imagine you've had much to eat. We can catch up with what's going on while we eat."

Estelle nodded, and called for Dalal, who broke from her peers and jogged back over to the front porch of the manor. "Could you supervise a bit in the kitchen? Lady Milford's staff is likely unfamiliar with Shamsi law regarding food. Not to mention, I'm sure the others will make a fuss over how plain the food will taste to them."

"It isn't plain," Irene said, but huffed and waved her hand at Dalal. "But very well then. I'd hate to cause trouble between the lot of us over a sandwich."

Dalal nodded and, with the way pointed towards the kitchen and scullery, made her way out behind the house. "Let's head in then," Irene said, motioning for Cassandra, Estelle, and Zaiah to follow her. "Eveline ought to be on her way, and should make it here by the evening. We'll probably need all of that time to get caught up on affairs."

~ 

The house looked newer than Cassandra remembered leaving it. The walls were bright, fresh in how crisp the color on them looked, the wood polished and sparkling on the staircase rails and trim along the walls. She had to stop, turning in a slow circle in the middle of the foyer as the others entered, remembering her home as it once looked when she was a child. Her home, she told herself, when it still belonged to her parents.

As though to emphasize the strange shift back into her past the house had taken, a large portrait of her family hung from the wall at the top of the stairs. The smiling faces of Florence and Albert Selby, holding their newborn daughter, looked down on the entry into the house as it once had, still framed in gold-trimmed oak that bore the family crest on its bottom edge.

"Eveline started the work, digging out the paintings you'd taken down over the years." Irene stood behind Cassandra, a hand on the younger woman's shoulder. "She and her staff worked diligently to return the house to what it once was. You and Estelle couldn't do this alone... she wanted you to return properly to your family's estate, when you came back."

"She was that convinced I would come back?" Cassandra looked back at Irene.

"She was." Irene gave a slow nod. "I doubted her, though I suppose for once, I was wrong on the matter between us."

They settled into the parlor, one of Lady Milford's servants having already started a fire to fend off the damp from outside. A small table was set in the middle of the room, the four women pulling up chairs to better reach the food and drink set out for them, while Cassandra explained the details of the trial that Eveline, in her bluster to update Irene on their younger peer's freedom, had failed to provide. With Estelle and Zaiah's help, she went on to fill the former school mistress in on the details of Cassandra's time in Kasabla, her service to Lady Azhar and her family, and the 

Irene frowned, tapping her fingers against the side of her glass of raspberry soda water. "All of this effort, then, to bring Lady Asima back with you," she said, "and you won't even be able to stay more than a few days in your family's home. Not to mention that you've outright given the property to this young lady." She gestured with open hand to Zaiah, who kept wrinkling her face at the bubbles in her drink.

"Miss Ruhulla; though, I suppose given the transfer of property," Cassandra said, "that she would more properly be Lady Ruhulla, has done a great deal for me, to support me while in Ul-Shams. I owe her so much. A starting point with which to see the world beyond her homeland was the least I could do for her."

"That's quite a surprise coming from you, Cassandra." Irene raised an eyebrow at her younger, Angliean peer. "I can't say I remember the woman I last saw being as generous. Or, for that matter, as grateful."

"Well, as you now know, at least in part, I've been through a great deal since I left here." Cassandra closed her eyes. "I feel like something has started to change inside of me. I don't know how long it will take, but I can feel it building somewhere deep."

"It's called growing up, Cassandra," Irene said with a nod. "One of many things you are late to joining us all in doing. I'm sure you make up ground in due time." She then turned her attention to the Shamsi woman across from her, catching Zaiah by surprise. "Now, if I may, Lady Ruhulla," she said, placing emphasis on the young woman's title, "There is much we will need to discuss, though I think some of it will have to wait for Lady Starling to arrive as it falls outside of my areas of expertise. Are you familiar at all with customs in Angliean society?"

Zaiah slowly shook her head. "Of course you aren't," Irene went on, waving her previous thought from mind. "Fortunately, I've been trying to teach proper etiquette to Cassandra for much of her life. I would imagine you'll make a better student than she did, as I don't think it's possible to be a worse one."

"Excuse me?" Cassandra sat back, staring appalled at Irene. "I listened to every last thing you taught me!"

Irene turned up her nose at her former pupil. "And you promptly forgot it again by our next session."

Cassandra crossed her arms, watching as everyone around the table aside from herself laughed in amusement, mouths covered with napkins. "You are all conspiring against me!"

"Well," Estelle said with a smile, "this is a house of scandalous things."

~ 

The afternoon moved along, bringing with it the red light of sunset, and the trundle of Eveline Starling's car traveling up the driveway. She made short work of the climb to the porch and the length of hallway between the door and the parlor, and wrapped Cassandra in the crush of a friendly and long-awaited embrace mere moments after the former Lady of the House had risen from her seat.

At Lady Starling's insistence, dinner was served in the grand dining room, though it wasn't until well after the moon was high among the stars that everyone sat down to eat together. There was nonstop conversation, a sharing of memories long kept secret from one another, or simply left unknown because of the distance involved between everyone. Irene's staff were quick to keep glasses filled, while Eveline and Cassandra hovered around Zaiah, pointing out the finer details of conducting a party among the guests she would surely entertain in Angliea.

Cassandra paused as they entered the dining room, resting her hand against the chair that her mother once sat in at the head of the table. Her fingers moved over the carved wood, her mind's eye-- for the briefest of moments-- seeing the beauty and poise, the warm smile and knowing eyes of Florence Selby looking down the table at the friends she now brought around it.

It wasn't her chair, though. She nodded, and pulled it out from the table.

"My dearest guests," she said, standing as everyone settled into their seats. Her voice choked for a moment, something warm running down her cheek. She dried it from her face on the sleve of the dress she'd changed into earlier with the help of Irene's servants. "My friends, from both near and far, from my youth, and from my present." She looked at everyone seated with her, at Irene and Eveline, at Estelle, sitting beside her, to Dalal and Myriam, Sabiha and Zaiah, seated in a row with one another. "To those who have worked tirelessly to restore this house in ways that I never could."

She took a deep breath, and felt the tension melt from her body. There was nothing to be afraid of, not now. Nothing to be nervous about. "I owe each and every one of you, every ounce of gratitude within me. You have guided me, and defended me. You have looked after me, even when I did not realize it. And I am only now beginning to appreciate the depth, and breadth, of love that there is for me. I am, only now, understanding how to pay that back in kind."

"This would be my seat," she said, and tapped her hand against the head chair. "But it isn't, anymore. I suppose, now, that I am a guest in this house as much as all of you. This home is filled with happy memories. It is my hope, that it will hold even more, as I hand it to the Lady who will keep it from this day onward."

Cassandra stepped aside, and nodded to Zaiah, who stood and walked slow, her steps hesitating at first, towards the head of the table. "I gladly present to all of you, the Lady of the Selby Manor," Cassandra said, "Zaiah Ruhulla."

Every one of the women gathered in the room applauded, Zaiah swelling with pride as she stood at her place. The others shifted downward, making a space for Cassandra to still sit at Estelle's side. "My honored guests," Zaiah said, raising her glass. Her voice shook, but was clear from one end of the room to the other. "A toast, to good fortune, and good futures, for us all."

~ 

Cassandra yawned and laughed as she stood at the stairs, the others chuckling in return at her weariness. "This has been a busier day than I've known in some time," she said, leaning against the railing. "And I've washed dishes in Lady Azhar's kitchen after lunch."

The others were quick to wish her good night. Some of them had already gone to find a good night's sleep for themselves. Cassandra made her way upstairs, opening the doors to her bedroom. She was first surprised to find it untouched except for cleaning-- Irene and Eveline each must have made their bed during their stay in one of the guest rooms. It was, for all intents and purposes, exactly as she had left it, months before.

She stepped inside and closed the door, and was surprised again to find Estelle seated on her bed, brushing her hair. Her gown draped loose over her legs, toes tracing circles lazily on the rug beneath the four-poster, her arms bare to the shoulders as her voice lilted a tune that Cassandra could not identify.

Cassandra blinked, frozen in place by her bedroom door. "Estelle?"

Estelle looked up from her grooming, and tilted her head to look around the bedposts at Cassandra. "I was wondering when you would come to bed."

"You're... this is..."

"I suppose, technically, it's Zaiah's room now. Though I remember her saying she would rather wait until she can properly move herself into the house before claiming it." Estelle laughed and stood up, setting her brush on the bed.

"That's not why I..." Cassandra shook her head, stumbling through her mind for words. "Why are you here?"

Estelle raised an eyebrow. "I would think it would be obvious."

Cassandra still sputtered, but watched as Estelle closed the distance between the two of them, until the woman's long, slender fingers rested against her cheeks. "I only ask you to answer one question, Cassandra. And it is the same question I asked you, so many months ago, when I knelt in front of you, holding you as you cried and confessed to me. Do you remember that question?"

"I do," Cassandra said. Her cheek pressed against Estelle's fingertips, feeling the woman's heat sink deep under her own skin. She was so used to that heat being all-encompassing, like a blanket wrapped around her, that if felt so strange, so pleasantly strange, for it to be so focused on one part of her. "I remember I was too scared to decide on an answer."

"I imagine," Estelle whispered, leaning closer, "that your feelings on the matter have changed since then."

Cassandra nodded. "I owe you my life. I owe you everything I have learned to feel and express. My debt to you can never be paid in full."

Estelle shook her head. "But that isn't what I'm asking. I owe you just as much, in ways that may take a lifetime for you to understand. But that's what love is, Cassandra. It's owing to another what can never be paid up, and an entire lifetime spent together, trying to fill the balance of the other's years with joy. I have always wanted that for you, Cassandra. I ask if you want the same for me."

There was not a second's hesitation in Cassandra's voice. "Yes," she said, the word bursting forth from her heart, through her lips, to the other woman's ears. "I want to find happiness with you, together."

Estelle pushed her fingers back into Cassandra's hair, and pulled the two of them together until their lips met, and parted. They felt the heat of each other's breath on their tongues, the smoothness of their lips sliding over one another. Cassandra's arms crossed under her lover's, meeting behind her back, palms resting over Estelle's spine. From there, they moved downward to her hips, fingers curling around the flesh and muscle and bone there, her mouth finally breaking from Estelle's as she gasped for breath.

"I want," Cassandra said, panting for breath, her forehead on Estelle's shoulder as the other woman stroked her hand down Cassandra's back. "I want to kiss you again. I want to hold onto you, and I don't want to stop."

Estelle laughed, the sound soft to Cassandra's ears. She felt Estelle kiss her on the crown of her head, taking a step sideways while holding them together, one that brought their bed a step closer. "I would love to, my Cassandra."

~ 

The sun rose up again, eventually. They, however, did not. Not with it, at least. The others gathered in the house knew well enough to let the two of them be. So it was well into the morning when Cassandra finally opened her eyes, and found herself still entangled with Estelle. The bedding was half in the floor, and half spread across their naked bodies, while the faintest reminder of the scent of her lover still lingered on her lips and in her breath.

She stirred, leg sliding over Estelle's thighs. She raised her head from the other woman's chest, and felt the warmth of the sun over her back.

For a moment it seemed as though it were all a dream, a lazy, slow picture coming to life within her mind. Then Estelle reached up, laying her hand on Cassandra's shoulder, and pulled her down slow into a kiss.

"Good morning," she said as Cassandra sank back down on top of her.

"Good morning," Cassandra answered, smiling as she curled back around Estelle, "my love."

~ 

Eventually, the two managed to wake enough to sit up. Word somehow made its way downstairs, where breakfast was prepared and brought up to the room. Myriam opened the door carefully, peeking around the corner to ensure that the two were covered enough that she didn't feel she was intruding on anything private. She then stepped inside, setting her tray of fruit, toast and preserves, and a light breakfast tea for the each of them on a table by the bedroom window before bowing to the two women still reclining in bed. She then left quick, uttering not a word, but giggling more than enough to be noticed by the freshly awoken couple.

The two dressed in gowns and light robes, and joined each other over breakfast, unencumbered by any pressing needs. There would be time later to move Cassandra's belongings from the house. There were more than enough hands to go around to help with the task. 

Cassandra paused, her fingers poised on her teacup, looking out the window at her parents' estate, the gift that she'd given to Zaiah. "I wonder what they would think of it," she said, tracing around the rim in slow circles. "Of giving this all away, I mean."

Estelle bit through her toast, a bit of jam sticking to her lip. "What who would think of it?"

"My parents," Cassandra said, and turned back to Estelle. "I've spent so long to keep the house in our family's hands, only to pass it along to someone outside of our family. It seems so strange, and contradictory, when I think about it."

"I think they would be glad," Estelle said, and reached across the table, resting her hand on Cassandra's, steadying it. "They would be glad to know it was in good hands."

Cassandra nodded, and looked again out the window. "It is." She nodded, and felt the smile return to her face. "You're right. She'll take good care of it. She'll have good help, after all."

"It bothers you that, after everything," Estelle said, gingerly holding her own teacup in her hands, "we don't know what happened to them. I can see the thought of it, lingering, in the back of my mind."

Cassandra bowed her head. "You were always very good at reading me." She sighed, and settled her cup back onto its saucer. "It does. But there is a lot left buried in Violette's papers. Given how entangled our families were, she undoubtedly has something to do with what happened to them. It will come to light in due time, and she'll pay her price for all of it."

"You're sure of it?"

"Undoubtedly. But I've decided as well..." Cassandra said, resting her elbows on the table, and her chin against her fingers. "Not to dwell too long on the past. They wouldn't want me to. They'd rather I move on, and go on with my life, than consume the bulk of my life in pursuing their ghosts."

She smiled and wrapped up Estelle's hands in her own, leading the other woman away from the table. "No, let's not spend the morning dwelling on something like that. We have our lives ahead of us. New lives, full of new possibilities." Cassandra laughed, raising Estelle's hands to her mouth, kissing her fingers at the knuckles. "I will teach you to dance."

Estelle laughed, eyebrows raised in surprise at her partner's outburst. "I wasn't aware you knew how without falling over."

"Oh, stuff that! I know enough to teach you to waltz," Cassandra said, and pouted before setting Estelle's hands in place. "I will lead, and show you the steps. It would be easier with music, but as I have no piano in here, and no one to play it if there were one, but I will count off the steps and we'll make do without."

"You insist?" 

One hand setting on Estelle's hip, Cassandra gestured towards the open space between the bed and table. "No, but I would be pleased if you joined me."

Estelle smiled, and took Cassandra's hand in hers. "Then I shall."

Soon, they would leave here, Cassandra thought to herself, counting out a four-step beat as she lead Estelle from step to step. She would return to Ul-Shams, to live by the sea. There, she would tend to the tiny lives they created, to shape their lives back towards what they ought to be. They would dine together, and converse together, and sleep beside one another for days and months and years to come. There would a chance for many plans and many thoughts, and all manner of things that they could share with one another. A chance for all the stories they might share, and dreams they might conjure up within one another.

For today, though, they would dance. And that would be enough, for a start.

  _The End_


End file.
